


gold cage

by jeongsa



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, american chaeng, the sugar mommy au absolutely no-one asked for, will update tags/rating as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeongsa/pseuds/jeongsa
Summary: when the stunning, wealthy park jihyo appears, jeongyeon is intrigued against her will.a no-strings arrangement is made. the thing about strings, though, is that you can't always see or sever them off.
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana, Park Jisoo | Jihyo/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 36
Kudos: 253





	1. and all the pieces fall

**Author's Note:**

> title/inspiration from this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAv1Y1YIwm8

“We’re going out,” Nayeon announces.

Jeongyeon is sitting at the kitchen bench with her laptop open, reflection dimly lit on the screen along with dust flecks. Nayeon’s heeled boots click from behind as she charges. 

‘Jeongyeon,” Nayeon waves a single hand in front of her face, from the other side. She’s fixing an earring into place, one that doesn’t match the other on purpose. “Did you hear what I said? We’re going out. Now get dressed.”

“Have fun,” Jeongyeon blandly replies, two fingers on the touchpad absently scrolling through her media feed.

“Oh _please_? Sana’s coming!”

Nayeon fancies her latest girlfriend more than anything else in the world, and she can’t blame her – the girl has this sweet and genuine aura. They met after a simple introduction at a party, Sana petting the random girls’ hair next to her on the couch - it was Nayeon, with a shiny wig on her head. Since then, they’ve been inseparable. 

It’s kind of funny how Nayeon always insists on Jeongyeon third-wheeling awkwardly while they make googly eyes for the entire night.

Jeongyeon finishes licking the spoon she dunks in, resting her elbow on the bench to face her friend. She notes to keep all signs of interest absent from her voice, so Nayeon doesn’t rush to her cupboard and pull out an outfit. “Where?”

“Don’t sound so excited!” Nayeon grins. “Sinkhole.”

Jeongyeon screws up her face immediately. “Sinkhole? That pile of trash?”

“Correct!’

“No,” Jeongyeon feels the yoghurt move around on her tongue as she shakes her head. “It smells like armpit. Even from the outside.”

“Come _on_ ,” Nayeon beckons. “You stepped on a used condom there _once_. That was, like, a one in 30 chance and it so happened to be you.”

“It’s literally a rubbish tip,” Jeongyeon deadpans. “I’d rather die.”

“Well, perhaps, but stop being so dramatic,” Nayeon can’t disagree, because it is, and it’s even worse on Friday nights. “The atmosphere is always better when something’s on, you know it.”

“What’s on, then?”

“Sock Monkeys are playing late,” Nayeon unfolds her arms, then gestures obscenely to her breasts, which are covered by a flimsy tartan crop top they’d bought patrolling the streets together. Nayeon insisted on buying matching ones, and Jeongyeon was almost nauseous. “Y’know, the band with the cool lead singer. We went when they were playing months ago. She flashed the audience.”

“Oh, right,” Jeongyeon hums, recalling standing in shock for a good ten seconds. That was their first outing with Sana in Nayeon’s tow. “The one with green hair?”

“Think so,” Nayeon straightens herself up. “You in, or what?”

“I don’t get paid until Thursday. Stocked up on food for the week yesterday, too.”

Nayeon groans. “Already?! I thought we agreed to do that tomorrow?”

They did, it’s just that Jeongyeon finds it especially painful to go grocery shopping with her, so she lies. “No, you just always seem to think it’s a Saturday on a Friday.”

“You know I said I’d pitch in,” Nayeon tuts her tongue, staring at her hard before beginning to rummage for her wallet behind the measly fruit bowl. It contains a questionably soft lemon and the fresh stack of Fuji apples on special. Nayeon pulls out a 50,000 won note and slides it over. “You’re annoying.”

“It's fine,” Jeongyeon shrugs, lips twitching upon slipping the note under the laptop to keep it in place. “You weren’t home, no big deal.”

Nayeon thinks for a while, the click-clack of fresh shellac resonating against the benchtop a few times before it stops. “You know what, actually… fuck it. I’ll shout you tonight too, just come out. It’ll be fun.”

“Why?”

“I just… I think you should. You haven’t been out in a while.”

Jeongyeon eyes her suspiciously. “I haven’t felt a reason to.”

“Which is exactly why you’re coming with me, for fun,” Nayeon’s teeth make a sweet appearance. “Get dressed, Sana’s coming over for pre-game now.”

Jeongyeon just rolls her eyes, slipping the lid of the laptop shut - right after Nayeon smacks her hand hard on the table, startling Jeongyeon and sending her to jump slightly on her stool.

“I almost forgot,” Nayeon looks delighted with herself, then sends Jeongyeon a garish look. “You need to wear the hottest outfit tonight. There needs to be cleavage. No excuses.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t like the sound of that - usually, it means Nayeon is going to push her onto the sweaty body of someone available in the club but never is it so cryptically worded. She raises her brows. “Because…?”

“I just need to approve,” Nayeon dodges the question, sauntering around the tabletop towards her bedroom. “For reasons.”

Whatever they may be, Jeongyeon sees those metaphorical devil’s horns peek through the strands of her hair as she walks away. She can tell by the dread knotting itself in the bottom of her stomach, in the way Nayeon offers to assist in her makeup that whatever Nayeon’s up to, whatever it is — it has to be no good. 

-

Jeongyeon’s intuition never fails.

She’s standing awkwardly to the side of their lounge while Nayeon opens the door after a couple of knocks. She’s greeted with Sana immediately sending Nayeon two kisses to the cheek and squishing up against her chest for a bear hug. Her lids glitter with eyeshadow as she closes her eyes in pure tipsy bliss. Sana vaguely reminds Jeongyeon of a manic fairy. 

“Oh, Jeongyeon! It’s so lovely for you to come out tonight,” Sana is simply charmed by her presence, making it apparent by forcing Jeongyeon’s arms out of their fold for an equally crushing embrace. “I was so happy when Nayeon told me you’d come! You look so pretty!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jeongyeon replies, having her windpipe obliterated. Nayeon flashes her a warning to amend. “Thanks, Sana. We need to do things together more often, yeah?”

“I completely agree!” Sana claps her hands together. “We’ll have a great time, I know it.”

“Did you bring the drinks?” Nayeon seems mildly confused, Sana empty-handed. “We have some here, it’s not a problem.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry babe, Jihyo’s on her way with something now,” Sana warmly smiles, and Jeongyeon’s head lifts from the stain on the carpet. _Who the hell is Jihyo?_ “She insisted on buying. She’s more of a wine person.”

“Well, that’s very generous of her. Jeongyeon loves red wine, don’t you Jeongyeon?”

 _I loathe you,_ Jeongyeon quietly seethes, and Nayeon’s eyes are twinkling with a smug look that repels Jeongyeon’s current hatred and bounces it back into nothingness. This was her mad plan, after all of that — Jeongyeon is in this tight fitted dress for one of Sana’s friends she doesn’t even know that Nayeon’s conspired against. _How brilliant._

“Jihyo does too!” Sana almost squeals. “She tends to like the fancy kind of stuff, though. Can’t ever get enough.”

Jeongyeon’s mind drifts to the $12 bottle of wine confined to the crisp drawer in the fridge, opting to say nothing and instead smile with ease. 

If Sana wasn’t here, she’d give Nayeon a right boot up the ass, but that’s all a part of the strategy. Sana’s here as a buffer so Jeongyeon can’t take a moment to pull Nayeon aside and complain while they’re stuck like glue 24/7. 

The buzzer to the apartment chimes and Jeongyeon closes her eyes to prepare for the hell.

“Hi, Jihyo! Come right up,” Nayeon is already on her way to being drunk from pouring shots of peach soju to kill boredom before Sana’s friend rocks up. Jeongyeon sits on the opposite end of the couch, pulling the hem of her dress down any time she reaches to take one of her own. She takes another bitterly as Sana smiles up at Nayeon like the moon revolves around her head.

“Oh, she’s here!” Nayeon sounds as excited as a child on Christmas. While Jeongyeon has thoroughly dreaded this moment the entire thirty minutes she’s had to wait, she’s curious about what Jihyo’s possibly like. 

“Ah, Nayeon! Nice to see you again.” 

Jeongyeon can’t see Jihyo’s figure behind the wall to the door, but she sees a firm hand held out to shake, and she makes a face. _Why so formal?_ Nayeon must wonder this too, because she giggles a little upon acceptance, shaking it wildly. “Good to see you, too. Come sit!”

Jihyo strides into view with arms full of alcohol, and Jeongyeon’s mouth runs dry. 

She appears shorter, and her hair is dyed an ash brown — it looks expensive, judging by the fancy foil highlights that show up underneath the light. As she walks towards Sana, embracing her best friend in a hug after placing the drinks down on the coffee table, Jeongyeon notices just how pretty she actually is. She takes in the shape of her lips, the dip at her hips where the skirt meets her waist.

If it were any more possible, Jeongyeon becomes even more self-conscious, shutting her legs tighter than before.

“Jeongyeon, right?” Jihyo inquires, locking eyes as she places herself by her side. Her voice is overtly pleasant, but it just makes Jeongyeon feel uneasy, for some reason. “Sana’s told me a lot about you.”

“Ah,” Jeongyeon nervously laughs. “All good things, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Jeongyeon daren’t look in Nayeon’s direction right now, because if she does, she’s scared she’ll find a self-righteous grin there. 

Nayeon returns from the cupboard with two wine glasses, gushing over how excited she is to go out with all of her friends -- one of whom she’s known for a total of two minutes. Jihyo seems to understand all about Nayeon’s own little world she creates with Sana, so she makes an effort to create her own.

“Drink?” Jihyo unsheathes the bottle from the brown bag, tilting it upon offer to Jeongyeon in particular, who eyes it uncertainly. She’s just polite, Jeongyeon reminds herself. She has to remember that Sana had a hand in setting this up, too. She’s not innocent.

“Sure,” Jeongyeon nods, and Jihyo begins to unscrew the cap. “You didn’t have to buy it yourself, you know. The girls and I would be more than happy to chip in.”

“It’ll only be you and I drinking it, by the looks of things,” Jihyo laughs, richly, like the idea of a fair split is preposterous. “Think of it as a gift.”

“Nayeon likes wine, though.”

“Yes, but Sana doesn’t, and whatever Sana says goes.”

This strikes a bold remark from the woman she’s just met, lips upturned, and it’s in this moment that Jeongyeon learns Jihyo has a sense of humour. Thank God, or else Jeongyeon would’ve been tragically carrying the conversation for the whole night. By the stirring sensation in her stomach, that’s not something that would have any possibility of ending well.

-

  
  


Jihyo holds a blaring presence in a dimly lit dive of a nightclub.

Firstly, it’s her shirt that proves the main distraction. She chose to wear white in black lighting, so the upper half of her body is illuminated. Secondly, it’s from a brand Jeongyeon recognises from her Farfetch wishlist. In an increasingly difficult feat, Jeongyeon tries not to stare at it too much while her head spins. 

She decides to take the initiative -- Sana and Nayeon have long abandoned the two, squaring it up on the dancefloor. “What do you do?”

“ _Do?_ ” Jihyo repeats, amused. “As in, for work?”

That was obvious -- she’s teasing. Jeongyeon doesn’t like it, not one bit, and she proves her disdain with a frown. “Yes. Obviously.”

“I work in Marketing, mostly,” Jihyo replies, swirling the liquor in her glass, not elaborating on the _‘mostly’_. “And you?”

“Supermarket,” Jeongyeon laughs, hollow. It leaves an empty feeling, something sober her would be disappointed in partaking, especially to a stranger. An attractive one, at that. “Not to worry, I’m studying for something better. Somewhat.”

“Shouldn’t matter,” Jihyo thoughtfully replies, and for a second, just a _split_ second, Jeongyeon is slightly dazzled. “All work is important. Tell me what you’re studying.”

“I'm majoring in Social Work.”

“Noble,” Jihyo smiles. Jeongyeon can’t determine the sincerity behind the statement. “If it matters, I think you’d be a great one.”

“You don’t know me very well, so... not just yet.”

“True,” Jihyo says, shrugging. “But I just get the feeling, you know? You seem the type.”

Jeongyeon laughs, loudly, the music pumping into her ears drowning the sound out. “A bleeding heart?”

“A good person.”

Jeongyeon is not equipped for such a response, taking a gulp of her iced water, blaming the sudden heat of the room on the packed body heat and general lack of air conditioning. 

Jihyo continues the conversation. “You know, I don’t often go out to places like this. I’m just here because Sana asked me to be.”

“Oh, I know,” Jeongyeon blurts. She really needs to shut her mouth, _fast_. 

Jihyo’s lips upturn. “Am I obvious?” 

She clearly didn’t catch onto what Jeongyeon was inferring. Jeongyeon swipes her hand fast across her mouth, poorly concealing her giggle. It dawns on her seconds later she’s wearing lipstick, then breathes a quiet sigh of relief remembering it’s transfer-proof. 

“No, no,” Jeongyeon backtracks, still distracting herself by watching the ice melt in her glass. “Not at all.”

“She just thought I should do something in her way of fun, for once.”

“Nayeon said that to me too!”

“A diabolical pair.” 

Jihyo takes a contemplative sip, and Jeongyeon does the same, dwelling to herself in the shared silence. It’s hard to face Jihyo like there’s a negative force preventing locking eyes with the woman sitting opposite at the bar. Whether it’s her own cowardice or general common sense in knowing how these things end, her entire being is structured to repel this kind of instant, dangerous attraction. She’s not sober. She shouldn’t. 

She can’t give Nayeon the satisfaction in knowing she was right.

Jeongyeon’s breath shortens as she feels fingertips brushing against the firm surface of her thigh, shifting to the hem of her outfit in a swift, single motion. The contact could almost be mistaken for innocent. Maybe, if Jeongyeon was stupid. 

“This dress,” Jihyo starts, and the look on her face - Jeongyeon knows she doesn't imagine that spark of interest when Jihyo swivels a little to press her knees to her side. “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Jeongyeon swallows. “It’s Nayeon’s.”

Jihyo’s eyes fix upon hers for another weight of seconds, then breaks away, finally allowing the knot in Jeongyeon’s chest to loosen. “Time to dance. Sana requires your presence.”

“Oh,” Jeongyeon quickly begins to stutter, flashing a look back to a frantically jumping Sana, waving exaggeratedly at the two as the band blares in the background. “I mean, I can dance. I dance. I do.”

Jihyo crosses her arms, jutting her chin out. “Show me.”

“What?”

“I want to see.” 

“You’re… not going to come?” Jeongyeon stands, her legs reminiscent of jelly - she almost stumbles, and Jihyo steadies her with a firm hand, catching her from where she’s poised like it’s nothing. Jeongyeon stubbornly decides she doesn’t enjoy this display of chivalry, tugging her arm out of her grip. Jihyo doesn’t look much offended like she expects, though, and it’s sort of annoying. She lets out a half-huff half-hiccup, beginning to back herself off the dance floor. “You're too good for a dance?”

“I’m just finishing my drink,” Jihyo replies, now having to yell from a distance. She lifts her glass. “Let me watch.”

Jeongyeon’s mind is already fuzzy with nonsense, so before she can begin to contemplate a relevant comeback for such an irritable request, Sana’s already run to wash her into the ocean of bodies pushed up against one another. Nayeon creates a daisy chain formation with their hands, and when she lets go, they all get sent flying.

She tries to forget about Jihyo burning a hole into her back, and ignores the fever growing along the pale line of her neck the longer she takes to join them.

\--

It’s been a week since Jeongyeon utterly humiliated herself.

Her mind keeps reeling back to that night - she’d let her guard down after a few drinks, let herself out of the house in the world’s smallest dress and let a woman she barely knew grind up against it. At the end of the night, she gingerly held Nayeon’s hair as she vomited in the toilet after a few too many, Sana passed out on the couch, and Jihyo offered awkward small talk to make light of the situation at the doorway. It was at that moment Jeongyeon just wanted to shrivel up and die.

“Jeong, can you do the rest of the tags for me? I have to go to the bathroom,” Chaeyoung pleads her case with a pained expression, squatting dramatically. The one other time Chaeyoung begged this on a night shift with Jeongyeon, she found her outside, sucking desperately on a cigarette in the dark sitting on a milk crate. “Please?”

“Fine,” Jeongyeon sighs, holding her hand out for Chaeyoung to pass over the small printing machine. Undeniably, the worst part of the month was when the specials came out, having to reprint the tickets with barely discounted prices on stock all at once. “But hurry up. You’re sorting cans next.”

“You’re the best,” Chaeyoung sends her an obnoxious wink, swaggering her way past aisle four into the clear flaps leading into the back. Jeongyeon shakes her head, turning back to her work at hand. It’s straightforward - you punch the numbers in, specific coding for whatever’s to go on the shelf, then you slide it underneath the plastic display. It’s such mundane work that Jeongyeon’s eyes are almost always glossed over after every shift. 

The metallic buzz of Jeongyeon’s phone rings out against the empty space on the shelf in front, and Jeongyeon eyes it sceptically. Nayeon seldom calls her at work. She figures something might be up, so she puts the machine down, answering the phone. 

“Hello,” Jeongyeon answers. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” It sounds like Nayeon’s chewing intently on something in the background - Jeongyeon’s forbidden corn snacks, most likely. “Can I give Jihyo your number?”

Jeongyeon splutters. “What? Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why are you asking me this at 11 o’clock at night? Could this not have waited?”

“I’m texting her now, and she asked if I could ask if it would be okay,” Nayeon replies. “It’d be kind of rude to not respond.”

“Why do _you_ have her number?”

“Sana gave it to me.”

“But _why_ does she want my number?”

“You’re so paranoid,” Nayeon says. “I don’t know? From what I saw you guys were having a good time together, why _wouldn’t_ she want your number?” 

Jeongyeon bites her lip. “Look, Nayeon-”

“I don’t know why I bothered, I’m just going to send it,” Nayeon decides. “Think of this as, like, a heads up. There’s tteokbokki in the fridge, and I left the lamp on. Bye.”

Nayeon hangs up just like that, and Jeongyeon’s left to frustratedly punch in the coding during the last hour of her shift.

-

_Hi, it’s Jihyo, from the other night. How are you? :)_

Jeongyeon stares at the text for what feels like a year. 

“Is that her?” Nayeon asks. She’s flicking through channels on the television. Sana just hung up on her, so she’s loved up and smug and absolutely going to lay it on thick. 

“Student loans email, actually.”

“Liar,” Nayeon kicks her bare foot to Jeongyeon’s thigh on the couch. “Just reply. If you don’t do as I say, you’ll be going against my girlfriend’s wishes and we’re gonna have a problem.”

“What does Sana have to do with this?!” Jeongyeon almost exclaims. “We met once, it’s hardly a big deal.”

Nayeon shrugs. “So we can all go out again, she had a lot of fun. Also, she’s shameless when it comes to matchmaking. You know that.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Jeongyeon wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Disgustingly good for each other, you both are.”

“She’s just perfect,” Nayeon sighs, and Jeongyeon wants to throw up on her when she tries to peer over her shoulder, lowering her voice. “What’d she say?”

“None of your business,” Jeongyeon pulls the phone to her chest. 

“I knew it,” The grin slowly develops at Nayeon’s mouth as she draws back. “You think she’s hot.”

“Fuck off.”

“You wouldn’t be acting so obtuse if you didn’t,” Nayeon picks up the remote she’d discarded onto the loveseat. “I may be many things, Yoo Jeongyeon, but I am not stupid.”

“You’re both stupid _and_ tiresome.”

“At least humour Sana and be polite to her, for God’s sake, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I am plenty polite,” Jeongyeon defends, and when Nayeon finally stops replying, she clicks back to open the conversation.

Jeongyeon gnaws at her lower lip. In reality, she was just so mortified from the other night and wasn’t sure how she’d come back from it. She had a good time with Jihyo, maybe too good -- she remembers it only in embarrassing fragments. She has Nayeon’s god-like recollection skills to thank for the rest of it. 

The one thing she most clearly recalls is how out of place Jihyo looked, attending a dive bar in a Chanel top and leather pumps, and it’s enough for Jeongyeon to compartmentalise the task of replying for another day.

-

“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?”

“Yes.” 

“And _what_ did I say to you the last time this happened?”

“Not to let Chaeyoung smoke outside,” Jeongyeon sighs. 

Of course, the idiot got herself caught on camera. Her manager keeps playing the tape in an aggressive manner similar to an angry hamster, at her small height and stature. It’s a video of Chaeyoung pulling out a rollie from the confines of her work jacket, and Jeongyeon has a palm to her forehead.

“Let me remind you. This is _my_ cousin,” Her manager’s voice is icy, hissing at Jeongyeon like she’s about to send spit flying everywhere. “I am responsible for everything she gets up to over this summer. Do you comprehend?”

“Of course,” Jeongyeon solemnly replies. _It means you shouldn’t be blaming me_ , she doesn’t say. “Sorry, Seoyun.”

“Sorry just isn’t going to cut it! Do you know what’ll happen if my Aunt finds out she smells like a wet ashtray? My ass is on the line! She comes to visit and assess her progress in a _week_!”

“I’m sorry, Seoyun-”

“Stop saying it,” Seoyun snaps. “Yes, Chaeyoung is wild. _Yes_ , she’s a vile American. But I’m being paid for her to stay with _me_. There needs to be at least some illusion of her behaving on this trip.” 

Jeongyeon believes the entire premise of Chaeyoung’s stay in Korea is a sham. Sure, she’s a little misled, shouldn’t smoke or probably swear as much as she does at the registers -- but she’s not a bad kid, Jeongyeon has seen it firsthand. Wasn’t this trip supposed to revolve around Chaeyoung learning about her culture? All she’s physically seen Seoyun do is give her an increment of her allowance to visit Namsan Tower -- by herself. She’s hardly the mentor she’s making herself out to be. 

“It won’t happen again.”

“I sure hope not,” Seoyun palms at her forehead, sinking into the desk chair in the dingy back room they’re cornered in. “I’m twenty-seven, and I already feel myself developing wrinkles. _Wrinkles,_ Jeongyeon. Do you know how expensive botox is?”

“Uh-”

“You don’t. Tell the brat she’s to do stocktake this weekend,” Seoyun stabs at her packaged salad with the plastic fork, scrutinising the contents. “In fact, so can you.”

“Actually,” Jeongyeon licks her lips. “I can’t. I have a huge essay due on human resource management this weekend before the semester ends… after then, I’ll be more available. We talked about it, remember? I have a schedule.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you went ahead and did _this_ ,” Seoyun bites angrily into a lettuce leaf. “Schedule around it instead. I was particular that you were to keep an eye on Chaeyoung when I’m not around, and you failed. Again.”

She actually means in general, not just when her eyes aren’t patrolling the floor. It’s a responsibility which doesn’t actually involve Jeongyeon’s working criteria - she’s just a regular part-timer. In exchange for juggling uni work, she’s allocated the oddest hours out of all people working at the joint. Jeongyeon has busted her ass many times just to make ends meet for the week, and with this now on top of her plate, she’s really not sure how she’s going to attain that assistant management position by the end of the summer. It’s really just an extra sum on top of her already low pay, but it’d make the world of difference week-by-week. Sucking up to her piece-of-shit boss is kind of the only option.

“Right,” Jeongyeon nods, swallowing back the frustration caught in her throat. It’s not worth the argument when there’s enough at stake already. “I’ll let her know.”

“Good, good,” Seoyun pretends to look pensive, shoving a piece of crumbled salmon into her mouth. “It’s been a couple of years, Jeongyeon. You’re one of the best workers here. I’m counting on you. With hard work, you can go places,” She pushes the salad away in her direction, disgusted. “Or when you actually get a lunch order right. Did I not specifically ask for no dressing or what?”

“You said light dressing,” Jeongyeon insists, snatching up the leftovers from the desk, anger boiling inside of her. For a task Jeongyeon kindly volunteered to do out of her lunch break, Seoyun really was ungrateful -- she will not cry in this stupid office. Not today.

“You know, if you did a little less arguing and more of your job, you’d probably be the CEO of Fresh Foods Mart by now,” Seoyun hisses, and Jeongyeon’s eyes sting as she begins to walk towards the door. “Go eat and stop wasting my time.”

-

The supermarket was located on a sleepy block of an urban landing strip, some long walk away from the High Fashion of Sinsa and Apgujeong. Jeongyeon sometimes finds herself taking that detour, anyway, when it’s been a particularly terrible shift. Today's hit a new peak.

One of Jeongyeon’s favourite things to do is window shop, in some twisted act of masochism. It’s still nice to dream, lightly fingering through shirts and jeans that she couldn’t possibly afford, unfriendly shop assistants, eyeing her off as she leaves empty-handed. 

Jeongyeon opts for just looking vaguely at the stores while her stomach eats itself from the inside, dreaming of possessing a pair of Off-White shoes. _God._ She absolutely hates her minimum wage job, she has so much work to do before the Saturday deadline, she has to babysit a nineteen-year-old -- it just feels like the nightmare that never ends.

Jeongyeon swallows the quiet cry that rises in her throat. It’s late afternoon now, with not many people scattered around the department, but she tries to hold it in any way and have some semblance of pride in the corner of the store. It’s easier said than done, sinking herself on the nearest seat next to the shoes as the next one cues up and Jeongyeon’s gulps to hold them back splutter into quiet coughs, and--

“Jeongyeon?” Someone says, behind her. Jeongyeon stands at once, paralysed to the spot with embarrassment upon recognition. The voice has an arm, and she knows this voice, curving around Jeongyeon’s forearm and ushering her out towards the exit with shopping bags banging against her hip. There’s no time to react and no room for resistance. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jihyo’s flowery scent is strong, knocking Jeongyeon back while she's already dizzy from the oncoming headache. She’s donned in more casual shoes today, but they have nothing on Jeongyeon’s work flats, sticking out like a sore thumb on the pavement as they walk together. Jeongyeon’s eyes are watering rather than streaming tears now, and she feels a bit more than ridiculous, allowing herself to be frogmarched out of a flagship store. Jihyo rounds the corner and Jeongyeon halts to a stop, allowing Jihyo’s arm to unceremoniously fall back at her side. 

“I’m alright, thank you,” Jeongyeon sniffs. Jihyo has a much more clever face now Jeongyeon is viewing it sober, warm-toned skin the sun does a million favours for and her lips etched into what looks like doubt. “Just a shitty day.”

“You don’t look alright,” Jihyo notes crisply. “You look like you need a coffee.”

She’s incredibly fashionable in the daytime, too. Dressed in no streetwear Jeongyeon would usually go for, however, with a boucle skirt-suit and pearl necklace adorned around her neck. It was hard to look away from the slim black belt cinching her waist, covered with gems Jeongyeon couldn't attempt to list off the top of her head. In any case, the outfit obviously costs a large sum, the embroidered logo at the breast-pocket of the blazer glaring against the sun.

“Look, I’m really sorry for interrupting your shopping and thank you for getting me out of there, but I’m okay now. I swear.” 

“Where should we go?” Jihyo muses, looking around, and somehow her arm snakes back around. “What street is this?”

“Garosu-gil, and, I _can’t_ ,” Jeongyeon says, but she could -- simply because of Jihyo’s strong will, striding them off in the opposite direction where Jeongyeon can barely keep up without ending up scraping a mark onto her pants. “I have to get back to work,” She pants. “My boss gets annoyed if I take more than an hour on my lunch.”

“Oh?” Jihyo says. “He sounds very irritating.”

“He’s a she,” Jeongyeon corrects. _And a total bitch at that._ It felt like she was being slightly abducted, Jihyo’s arm tightening as they walk past the women with plastic surgery bandages and lovey-dovey couples sharing ice-cream on benches. Jeongyeon wasn’t actually fighting back, though, even glancing up at the Palm Angels pop-up store shop front as they scurry past. 

“You haven’t eaten yet?” 

“Well, no, not yet-”

“Good.”

Jihyo ushers Jeongyeon around one corner, coming to a halt outside of a barely marked black door, pushing it forward. The space was dark, hints of ruby red splashed on the walls, lights dangling from the ceiling in adjacent positions. Before Jeongyeon could open her mouth to make some excuse to leave, a woman walks towards them, in dark clothing and an apron.

“Good to see you again, Miss Jihyo,” The lady smiles, then looks between the two of them. “Here for lunch?”

“Cake for one, and then some drinks for two,” Jihyo mirrors her expression, finally releasing Jeongyeon from her hold and stepping forward. Jeongyeon is immobilised to the spot, and Jihyo notices, nudging forward with her chin to pull her inside. “Come on.”

The door shuts behind her with a decided thud, and she feels cocooned within the space, where the people at tables only spoke in low volumes and tones as if anything louder wouldn’t be permitted. It was oddly soothing, in a way, and Jeongyeon feels that built frustration fizzle away in her chest. 

Jihyo settles herself into a chair, with plush arms like they’re meant for a living room. She waits for Jeongyeon to sit, tentatively pulling one out and regretting even letting herself get into this situation. Was last week not enough?

Jihyo reaches into her purse, sliding over an ordinary packet of tissues on the table. Jeongyeon looks to Jihyo, who nods kindly for her to take them. Jeongyeon does as she’s told, slowly unravelling it and dabbing at the corner of her eyes.

“There she is,” Jihyo smiles. “Much better.”

When Jeongyeon dressed for work this morning, she’d picked and pulled at the slouch of her work pants. She’d lost weight somewhere along the last year and will probably need them taken in by under an inch. Staring at them clashing against the orange velvet of the overstuffed armchair, Jeongyeon feels ridiculously out of place. 

“I really do need to get back,” Jeongyeon mutters. 

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Jihyo says lightly, and at that second, the waitress brings the two cups of coffee over. “Just enjoy your drink.”

Jeongyeon peers into the cup. It’s an americano, just how she likes it, and it’s bitter hitting the taste buds on her tongue.

“Nice?”

“Yeah,” Jeongyeon quietly blows on the rim of the cup. “Kinda hot, though.”

“Let it cool for a moment, maybe,” Jihyo suggests, and Jeongyeon settles it back onto the saucer it came with with a clink. “Bad day?”

“Something like that.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“An argument with my boss. I just got overwhelmed for a second. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t apologise. Everyone has bad days,” Jihyo takes a sip of her own, which has milk added to it. “I spotted you as I walked past. I was going to ask if you were possibly shopping for the next outing, so I’m glad I caught you.”

“Not exactly my finest moment,” Jeongyeon murmurs, then realises she hadn’t focused on the critical part of Jihyo’s sentence. “Wait, what outing?”

“I was going to message you about it,” Jihyo adjusts herself in her chair, and that feeling of guilt surges in Jeongyeon’s stomach. She never actually did get around to replying, ending up discarding her phone onto her nightstand after not knowing what to respond with. “Maybe Nayeon forgot to mention, Sana’s having a party.”

“Why? Isn’t her birthday in December?”

“She just wants to,” Jihyo shrugs. “Nayeon will be there for obvious reasons, so I figured you might like to come along as well.”

“Sana is…” Jeongyeon trails off. “Anyway, there was nothing in that store I could possibly afford,” Jeongyeon’s fingers curl around the handle of the steaming cup. “So don’t count on that part.”

“I see,” Jihyo taps her fingers against the table. “Well, It’s next Friday night, at my place.”

“Yours?” Jeongyeon almost scoffs, but quickly remembers it’s not polite in such an atmosphere and swallows it back. “You’re brave for that. Sana will find a way to get her glitter everywhere.”

“Being best friends with one of the performers for the Seoul Cute Monster Cafe’s never exactly been an easy task,” Jihyo laughs lightly, then looks at the cake being placed in front of Jeongyeon’s face. “But it's something I’ve grown used to.”

Jeongyeon prods at it, sliding a chunk off to try -- it looks like mud-cake, tastes like the good kind. Jeongyeon can’t remember the last time she ate like this in a cafe, maybe when Seungyeon last came for a visit? Although it didn’t feel quite so formal like this. In fact, what _was_ this place exactly? It looks like something straight out of a modern drama. Jeongyeon averts her eyes just as she notices Jihyo had been watching the fork leave her mouth.

“I know we don’t know each other very well just yet," Jihyo starts, and Jeongyeon recalls what she said the first time they’d spoken, that same feeling back to stir in the pit of her stomach. “But I think it’d be worth being friends. Don’t you think so?”

“Sana and Nayeon are ready to officiate their imaginary wedding, so,” Jeongyeon nervously chuckles, trying to sound nonchalant shoving another piece of cake into her mouth to stop her from speaking in stupid. Friends. Sure, Jeongyeon can do _‘friends’_. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other either way, I’d say.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Jihyo seems satisfied enough with the answer, smiling brightly and adjusting her posture in the chair. Short, manicured nails on a hand extend across the table. “From now on, if you ever need anything, please let me know.”

Jeongyeon eyes it -- was this Jihyo's _thing?_ To handshake upon initiation of a friendship? It reads a little bizarre if not a workplace practice but, to each their own. Jeongyeon briskly accepts, but Jihyo clasps firmly, strong and unwavering before letting go.

As moments pass, Jeongyeon begins to feel swallowed by the darkness of the walls in the room rather than comforted, the lurching in her chest not letting up the longer she sits here in this overly comfortable chair. She’s flustered by the way Jihyo keeps stealing weighted glances as bites into the chocolate decadence pass like she might know something Jeongyeon doesn’t. 

“Would you be able to tell me the time?”

“Ah, of course,” Jihyo checks her watch hidden underneath her sleeve. “Just half-past 1’oclock.”

“I have to catch the subway a stop over,” Jeongyeon creases her face in apology, attempting to seem convincing underneath the pulse thudding heavily against her skin. “How much did you want to split for this?”

“No need,” Jihyo waves a hand. “Won’t you sit and finish? I can just take you back.”

Something about Jihyo seeing Jeongyeon’s run-down workplace makes her feel a little ill. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that from you, but than-”

“I’m offering,” Jihyo interrupts. “But, I understand, routine and all. Do you at least feel a little bit better?”

The way Jihyo accomplishes cutting into Jeongyeon’s excuse-making is unnerving. Not as much as the sudden lightbulb moment that being led into a strikingly intimate cafe where couples leaned halfway into the table to speak had to have some ulterior motive. It feels almost like an impromptu date, one Jeongyeon is incredibly inappropriately dressed for. 

_Does_ Jeongyeon feel better, though? Jihyo had successfully distracted from the situation at hand, but Jeongyeon has absolutely no idea how to act in general around the woman while entirely alone just yet. She's about to reach her awkward interaction quota for the day -- Her best friend’s girlfriend’s friend caught Jeongyeon sniffling miserably in a Lotte Mall, and now she's here when she should be back at work.

“Yes… thank you,” Jeongyeon says, quietly collecting her bag and throwing the strap over her shoulder. “I’d best be going now before Seoyun properly chews my head off.”

“Would you like some cake to take back with you?”

She really, really would, because it tastes fucking amazing. “No, but thank you,” Jeongyeon primly stands up, eyeing off the brown crumbs accumulated on the plate. “For this, again.”

Cutting off her nose to spite her face was very much a vocation with Jeongyeon, and she suspects Jihyo seems to grasp this too, a wry twist of her lips as she takes another measured sip of her coffee. “It was nice to catch up with you, Jeongyeon.” 

“Likewise.”

“Ah, wait,” Jihyo delicately catches Jeongyeon’s wrist in her attempted leave, and Jeongyeon freezes as she's scanned. “So you’ll come?”

“Oh,” Jeongyeon figured that was implied, but maybe she wasn’t straightforward enough about it. “Uh, yeah, I’ll come. Any dress code?”

“Clothes, preferably,” Jihyo says. “Kidding. No dress code. Whatever you like.”

Jeongyeon flushes at her teasing tone. “Noted.”

“Let me pick you up then, too,” Jihyo says, then quickly adds, “Along with Nayeon, I mean. Saves you both the taxi ride fare.”

“You’re too nice,” Jeongyeon mumbles. “But, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

Jihyo’s face breaks out into a brilliant smile, one that almost leaves Jeongyeon winded, then gently lets go.

Jeongyeon hurries through the room, down the narrow corridor until the thick door chimes and she’s out on the street. She takes a moment, beside the establishments’ doormat to gain some bearings. If she turned, would she see Jihyo watching through the tinted glass? 

Though Jeongyeon tries to ignore it on the train, her wrist where Jihyo’s fingers had touched tingles for the rest of her afternoon shift.

-

University is hard work. Jeongyeon pulls all-nighters more than just a few times throughout her studies, all the while enduring natural-born genius Nayeon’s joking jeers of calling her a nerd while juggling the workload. 

Jeongyeon bores into the screen, halfway with the essay and a lot more ahead than she thought she’d be for the time she’s spent on it. The blue light stings from all of the staring. It’s compelling work, sure, but it’s the worst when there’s a looming deadline imposed. Lifting her glasses off her nose, she rubs hard into the corners until there are spirals. She’ll need a short break, or else she’ll burn out completely. 

“Jeongyeon! Mail time!”

Once enough is accumulated, Nayeon shows Jeongyeon all of the various useless gadgets she’s bought online, like a live parcel opening event. They make it into a sort of game together and put them to the test.

“Guess what this is,” Nayeon pulls out a cylinder-shaped object with a spiral down the middle, swivelling it in her hands. She’s wearing her pyjamas, with a sheet mask peeling off the left side of her face. “Go on, guess!”

“Essential, that’s what it is,” Jeongyeon answers, grinning. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Exactly,” Nayeon smugly passes the wine-opener into Jeongyeon’s hands, and as she presses the top, the rhythmic whir sounds. What a dangerous contraption to have in the household. “No longer will you have to make the already minimal effort of popping out a cork. This does it for you!”

“Amazing. Show the next.”

“Okay, so this one is an eyebrow stamp, but it’s a kind of awful, so I think I might leave that out,” Nayeon makes a face at the already opened package. “I tried using it before going to the cinema with Sana and it looked like I Sharpie-d them on.”

“You really broke the number one rule,” Jeongyeon feigns shock. “No opening the packages until we’re both present? _Hello?_ I’m disgusted, I’ll be honest.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” Nayeon juts out her lower lip, incessantly poking at Jeongyeon’s side. “Besides, it was a matter of life or death.”

“I’m sure she was very excited to see two furry caterpillars camping on your forehead,” Nayeon properly slaps Jeongyeon’s arm. “Ow, fuck!”

“You’re so rude,” Nayeon huffs as she throws the last bubbled mailer in the trash. “And to think I was leaving yours for last.”

There’s a rather large box on the table, white next to the usual yellow glare of the average package that sits on their tiny dining table. “ _That?_ Are you sure?”

“It’s addressed to you,” Nayeon raises her brow because it really was only the odd occurrence of Jeongyeon ever receiving a parcel in the mail. She throws it into Jeongyeon’s lap, and it has a weight to it when it sinks in. “The courier dropped it off this morning.”

“But,” Jeongyeon feebly rakes over the label and sees it is in fact addressed to her. “I didn’t order anything.”

“Wasn’t me,” Nayeon shrugs, jumping next to Jeongyeon at the coffee table and handing her the pair of scissors. “Open it, I wanna see.”

Kneeling down, Jeongyeon places the box on the floor so she can snip away at the tape holding the packaging together. It’s not an easy feat, nor is it flimsy enough to cut through with ease. Then, she pulls another box out, hidden inside of the one on the outer layer. In plain black lettering, it reads, _Balenciaga_.

“What,” Nayeon breathes. “The fuck.”

Jeongyeon’s hands shake now as she lifts the second lid, burrowing through the tissue paper until she catches a glimpse of black, Italian leather. There’s a handle, a strap, and then the rest of the bag, which is about the size of one of Jeongyeon’s smaller Human Ethics textbooks. 

Maybe Seoyun had seen the error of her god-awful ways as a human being, personally robbing a bank to offer her employees respite for the amount of hounding she does daily. And maybe Jeongyeon was a dreamer. She picks it up to run her hands over its sides when a piece of card in prim, proper handwriting falls off.

_For Jeongyeon. From J._

_Jihyo._ It had been a few days since their last abrupt meeting over lunch together. Jeongyeon has tried to push it to the farthest corner of her mind, because every time she replays the memory over in her head, she remembers Jihyo’s unwavering gaze and the teasing edge to her voice. At the very least, the woman wanted _some_ kind of statement to be made. There’s no doubt about it now -- Jeongyeon isn’t crazy, but Jihyo just might be.

“Let me touch it!” Nayeon shrieks, pulling the bag out of Jeongyeon’s hands to loop onto her shoulder to see what it looked like in practice. It fits better on her, Jeongyeon concedes. Everything always does. “You really didn’t buy this?!”

“She sent it to me,” Jeongyeon absently murmurs, stroking idly at the embossed logo in shock. It’s the one she’d been admiring in the Mall, right before she’d started tearing up in the shoe section. 

“ _She?!_ ” Nayeon repeats shrilly. “What kind of woman in your life is sending you a one-point-five million fucking won handbag? I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me like this!”

“I haven’t,” Jeongyeon says. “I didn’t think-”

“What’s that?” Nayeon spots the white card still resting in Jeongyeon’s hands, snatching it away at once with a lesser effort on Jeongyeon’s part to hold it hostage. There was no point in trying with Nayeon when she was in detective mode. “J… one letter? Who the hell is this _J_ person? You didn’t just write yourself a sad little note at the checkout, did you? I do that sometimes, it’s fun. I’d understand.”

“Nayeon,” Jeongyeon groans. “Just give it back.”

“No! Not until I get to the bottom of this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeongyeon murmurs, prying the bag from Nayeon’s clutches to place it back face down in the box. “I’m returning it.”

“Hold the fuck on,” Nayeon pauses, scrutinising the words a little longer. Jeongyeon feels a shiver run down her spine as it registers in her tone. “J as in… Jihyo? _Jihyo_?”

Jeongyeon firmly places the lid back on the box. “I’m going to tell her I can’t accept it.”

“Jesus, Jeong, Sana told me she was well off, but... not like _this_ ,” Nayeon flurries her hands around excitedly. “Exactly what the _hell_ did you do for her to send you a designer handbag?”

“Nothing!” Jeongyeon defends, in an urgent whisper to match the gravity of the situation that was slowly beginning to sink in. “It’s going, just forget about it. I can’t keep it.”

“Like hell it is!” Nayeon grabs the box, clutching it in her arms like a toddler with a toy before bedtime. “Tell me what happened, now.”

“Seoyun was being an ass,” Jeongyeon sighs. “You know what she's like. I went walking around the shopping district to cheer me up on my break, I don’t know, and then-”

“Then what?” Nayeon interrupts. “Don’t skip the details.”

There wasn’t much to tell, looking back on the lunchtime experience, but the thoughts had been rattling around in Jeongyeon’s mind like loose M&Ms. She was, at the very least, grateful to purge the experience. They ate, they spoke, Jihyo had asked her to come to Sana’s party, and Jeongyeon sat there floundering like a fish out of water in her dowdy work uniform.

“...And then I went back to stacking the shelves,” Jeongyeon says. “That’s it.”

“She paid for the cake,” Nayeon is now lying on her back, stretching her legs in the air, probably to work out her core muscles while she listens. “And then she sends you a handbag.”

Jeongyeon scowls. “I hate you.”

“No, no! It’s so sweet!”

“It’s going back to the store,” Jeongyeon shakes her head, safely cocooning the box back in her own arms now Nayeon’s let go of it. “It’s ridiculous. How am I supposed to accept this? This is worth at least four weeks of my pay. Four weeks, Nayeon. It’s not exactly an everyday expense, is it?”

“That’s exactly why you should keep it,” Nayeon argues. “Think about it, you don’t get something like this happening to you every day, do you? Hell, it doesn’t ever happen for most people! Take advantage of it!”

“It’s not right,” Jeongyeon stares down at the font, practically ingrained into her eyes at this point. “I - I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“What idea?” Nayeon rolls onto her stomach, giving Jeongyeon a devilish smirk. “That you think she’s absolutely positively one hundred per cent-”

_“Enough!”_

“You have to admit, Jeongyeon,” Nayeon chokes words out, coming down from the giggle fit. “It’s kind of sexy.”

“But I’m not looking for anything,” Jeongyeon folds her hands into her lap. “I can’t, not while I’ve got so much going on right now. Besides, she and I are… too different.”

“Different _how,_ exactly?” Nayeon tilts her head, then sighs at Jeongyeon crossing her arms. “You’re not making this about money, are you?”

“ _Everything_ revolves around money,” Jeongyeon scoffs. “She probably doesn’t know what it’s like to live without it. She's just made that crystal clear, in fact.” 

“You can’t show her?” Nayeon grossly winks and nudges at Jeongyeon’s arm, still aching from before when she slapped it. “Get her down and dirty with the less fortunate?”

“You’re a terrible human being,” Jeongyeon grumbles, getting up. Nayeon’s not really the best living example when she has an allowance trickling in from Gyeongju. It gets deposited every fortnight on top of her flighty job at the bar a street away. “I’m returning it, and that’s final.”

“Fine. I know you have some higher moral ground thing going on here, but Jihyo gave that to you as a _gift_ ,” Nayeon reminds her as she moves back towards her bedroom in a storm. “A gift! You can possibly insult her and return it by all means, but you’ll have Sana to deal with if it ends badly and _me_ if she starts to pout about it!”

Jeongyeon shuts the door to her bedroom, flopping on top of her bed after turning the light out. The points of the box dig into her stomach, and her phone buzzes against the back of her thigh. The notification is precisely who it shouldn’t be from, which makes Jeongyeon want to scream into her pillow. 

_I thought it would suit your style! Don’t kill me. :) - J_

Jeongyeon contemplates her reply before biting the bullet, sending an aggressive _I might have to_ before shutting off her phone. She takes slow, steady breaths, trying to ease the thrumming against her ribcage and clutches at her sheets, thinking of a held gaze and warm brown eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. you could say you had it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think I’ve ever verbally admitted it, but,” Jihyo sets her drink down on the glass finish of the table, turning completely side-on so they can face each other fully. “I think I might just enjoy spending my money on pretty girls.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Chaeyoung asks, feet elevated on the table in the makeshift common room. It’s an extension of Suyeon’s office, with only a beanbag and an armchair. The leather's cracked from sun exposure. “You look like someone’s pissed in your cornflakes this morning.”

“Charming,” Jeongyeon nudges at loose catalogues crumpled on the ground in her direction. “I’d never eat those. They’re too bland.”

“They’re delicious,” Chaeyoung groans. “I had to go to a specific store just to get Kellogs, for God’s sake. Who knew that was the one thing I’d crave over here, over everything else? I expected it to be Taki’s.”

“I don’t think anyone understands the intensity of your thought process,” Jeongyeon picks up the screwed ball she makes and piffs it at Chaeyoung’s face. “I’m stuck here with you when I should’ve been finishing my essay.”

It’s also partially due to the fact she hasn’t been able to formulate a dastardly plan of return for the bag without causing any offence in the process. It goes without saying why she can’t make a comment about it to someone as blunt and unhelpful as Son Chaeyoung. 

“You must study too much,” Chaeyoung scrunches up her face. “You need to let loose, live a little, y’know? I was talking to Jae about this earlier.”

“Glad to know my personal life is a frequent entertainment for the two of you,” Jeongyeon will kick Jae’s ass later for indulging in gossip. The giant man can’t help himself. “But I’m supposed to take advice from the Resident Deadbeats on staff, now?”

“That’s kinda harsh, don’t you think?”

“He directly enables your bad behaviour.”

“Not true,” Chaeyoung eats the last potato chip from the dredges of the packet. “That’s a personal choice.”

“I’ll start over. I’m supposed to take advice from the Juvenile Delinquent?”

“That’s a baseless rumour,” Chaeyoung points square at Jeongyeon’s chest, grinning. “I got arrested at a protest once. Don’t believe a word that comes out of my cousin’s mouth.”

“Gladly,” Jeongyeon remarks under her breath, and Chaeyoung snickers at the insult. “No smoke today?”

“Holding off for the greater good,” Chaeyoung sinks herself further into the balls of foam, tapping her leg. Jeongyeon figures this is from the withdrawals. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, earlier, for real. That was my bad.”

“It’s fine, Chaeng. I crammed and did it today, I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“I don’t know how you balance work on top of your studies like that. Maddening.”

“It’s because I have to,” Jeongyeon says, lips pressed in a thin line. “Means I’m free for the Summer.” 

“Yeah, well,” Chaeyoung places the packet in the bin beside the shoddy bookshelf. “You seem focused, it’s great. You won’t fuck it up like I did.”

Jeongyeon frowns at her tone, but Chaeyoung’s already lifting herself up and wiping the seasoning from chips on her pants. “Come on, we’re ten minutes over and we have to pack the last veggie box.”

“Since when did you care about being on time?”

“Since it’s 11, and I promised to call my girlfriend back home,” Chaeyoung retorts. “Ever had one of those?”

Jeongyeon kicks hard at her ankle and Chaeyoung laughs into a yelp, loud and empty to the entrance of the storage room. 

  
  


-

  
  


Jeongyeon always has to jog to the last train home.

As far as Jeongyeon’s parents know, Jeongyeon lives in one of the nicer areas of Seoul, a decent residence near her University where only proper young ladies live. This is a load of bullshit. It’s not an area with a particularly bad reputation, but her flat situates above a smear of lower-grade coffee chains and trader shops. It’s some far stops away from her campus, and travelling there is a pain when she’s not in the mood. 

Jeongyeon runs that last little bit of the street to her apartment to get inside quicker. She slows down once she’s inside the building and creeps her way up the stairs. She doesn’t want to wake up the grumpy old lady that lives on the first floor, _or_ the equal in her own home -- Nayeon.

It would be a nice apartment if it was updated. High ceilings, window fixtures and an old-structured fireplace are stunted by the barely-functioning stove and small surface area. Nayeon’s insistence on fragrance reeds for every room prevents the prominent smell of damp mildew.

If Jeongyeon wasn’t constantly toeing the line of being in arrears of her rent, she’d suggest for them to find a different place to stay. That’s not how the world works when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, though, so she has to suck it up. 

The floorboards aren’t too cold to be barefoot. Jeongyeon is licking the back of a spoon dunked into a jar of cream cheese, and all she can think about is the bag that lives at the bottom of her cupboard. She refuses to touch it, unless it’s to pick up and return back to its original owner.

Is Jihyo the owner, though? She’d obviously bought it from the mall strip and handed it right over. Nayeon’s annoying voice keeps haunting her, telling her it was a gift out of the goodness of her own heart. Jeongyeon supposes it’s a bleak outtake to decide it’s just rich guilt, as this is someone as earnest as Sana of all people is friends with. But what else could it be? She can buy that bag twice over and it probably still wouldn’t carve a dent into her savings, so, _why_? 

Something possesses Jeongyeon to slide her cupboard door open, glare at the box next to her array of shoes, clasping her phone in her hand. If Jihyo didn’t want her to call and give a piece of her mind, she wouldn’t have asked for Jeongyeon’s number.

The impromptu plan is to leave a message because it’s late, as there’s almost no possibility of Jihyo being awake. A nonchalant, insouciant message of thank-you-but-no-thank-you, and to text her an address to physically return it would suffice. Nayeon was right about one thing -- it’s rude to not show gratitude in some way shape or form. This is what’s right. 

Before Jeongyeon can really stop and ask herself what the fuck she’s doing, she presses Jihyo’s contact information, and it cuts off at the second ring. 

“Hello?”

Jeongyeon pulls the phone away from her ear, staring incredulously at the time lapsing on the call. She didn’t anticipate her to actually pick up. Jihyo’s completely ruining her plan.

The next greeting comes through tinnily, from a distance. “... Hello?”

“Oh, shit,” Jeongyeon says, pulling the phone back to the receiver. Her mind races through every possibility of why Jihyo would be up at a time like this. “Sorry, blanked for a sec. It’s Jeongyeon.”

“I know,” Jihyo replies, smoothly, not at all disturbed from a deep slumber. “Your name came up as the caller.”

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” Jeongyeon mumbles. “I was going to leave a message…”

“I’m glad you didn’t, I’d prefer to talk properly. It’s not that late, is it?”

“It’s nearly 12am.”

“Ah. I’ve been out to dinner, must’ve lost track of time.”

“Really?” So much for nonchalance.

“You know, for boring work-related things,” Jihyo says. “It’s a senior board member’s birthday. Why are you still up?” 

“I got home from work,” Jeongyeon pauses, waiting to speak the next line. “I figured I should properly call you to gather some... bearings.”

“Oh?” Jihyo sounds like she knows what’s to come. “Please continue.” 

“Well, firstly... How did you know I liked that brand?”

“I saw you looking at, it in the store. Nayeon’s showed me pictures of you,” Of-fucking-course Nayeon’s done that. “I figured you might like it from your clothes, and such. I hope you don’t mind, I thought it might cheer you up!” 

“Well, I just wanted to thank you, so much. It’s beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact,” Jeongyeon feels herself word-vomiting to cushion the next statement. “ _But_ , unfortunately, I have to-”

“Why did you work so late?”

“Uh,” Jeongyeon frowns. “I usually do later shifts, to work around my timetable. Yeah. Anyway. Jihyo, I really do appreciate the gesture, very much. It’s amazing, but I just… I can’t just accept something like-” 

“Do you have a safe way of getting home?”

Jeongyeon’s patience slips entirely. “Do _you_ always feel the need to interrupt me when I speak?”

“Not always. Only when you’re spouting nonsense.”

“You don’t understand what I’m saying, then,” Jeongyeon grips her phone tightly. “Jihyo, I’m not rich. Okay? I could never match this.”

“You don’t need to, there’s no expectation to come with any of it. That’s how gifts work.”

“I know how gifts work,” Jeongyeon grits, the annoyance now seeping into her tone at Jihyo’s laugh to follow. Jeongyeon, of all people, not knowing how gifts work? Laughable. She took that love languages test once when she was bored, it's one of her top two results, thank you very much. “But I have to match things, in some way shape or form when it’s my turn. That’s my thing.”

“You want to match me?” 

Jeongyeon physically restrains the frustration from her throat. This is not how she wished for this conversation to pan out whatsoever.

“ _No!_ I’m just saying that I couldn’t give you something as expensive as this. If I were to ever get you something. If ever. I’m not, of course. But if I had to, I couldn’t. That’s what I mean. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Not really. Anyway, why would the cost matter?” Before Jeongyeon can scoff at how ironic she sounds, Jihyo adds, “The bag actually can’t be returned. It’s an extra sample on hand from work.”

A beat passes. “Sample?” 

“Mhhm, sample.” 

The pause after Jihyo drops the announcement makes Jeongyeon’s tongue feel like a foreign object that’s found its way into her mouth by accident. _A sample? Jihyo didn’t buy it?_

A three-second delay of confusion stretches to five, and Jeongyeon twines her legs together at the end of her bed. She wants to ask what kind of job Jihyo has for that to be humanly possible, but then the whole idea of insouciance flies out the window. She’ll sound indefinitely more stupid and ungrateful than she does now. “Oh. That’s - that’s chill. Super chill.” 

“Now that’s settled, was that all you called for?”

“No...”

“No?”

“Okay, yes,” Jeongyeon flushes. “I - fuck. I didn’t mean to upset you, not at all,” She’s digging herself an even more big and awkward hole. “I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry. I hope you can understand. Have a nice rest of your night, week, month, and-”

“Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon takes the heel of her palm over an eye. “Yes?”

“Are you done?”

“...Yes.”

“Good. I’m not upset,” Jihyo reassures warmly, though it still feels strikingly like telling her to shut up. “I expected this reaction, honestly.” 

Jeongyeon frowns. “Then why did you send it?”

“Don’t you ever do things just for the fun of it? I’m taking Sana’s advice.” 

“Your version of fun must be significantly different to mine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Jihyo replies. “You should wear it to the party.”

“Yes, about that,” The party. Jeongyeon forgot about the invitation among the rest of the collateral drama currently ongoing in her life. She tries a hand at lying. “I wasn’t planning on staying for long. I have, um, things I need to be doing on Saturday. Work.”

It doesn’t even sound convincing. “That’s a shame.”

“But we can still grab a drink together, before I leave, maybe,” Jeongyeon squeezes her eyes shut. There’s something about Jihyo that makes her feel so nervous that she’s been blurting out the first things that come to mind.

Jeongyeon is unsure whether it’s her own guilt from jumping to conclusions, or the fact that Jihyo is very obviously amused by how flustered she is right now. 

“Or, we could not do that,” Jeongyeon says. “You can forget I said anything, actually.”

“Too late. Consider me matched,” Jeongyeon can envision Jihyo’s irritating smirk through the fibre optics. “I’m about to head home, so I have to hang up now. Like you said, it’s late. You should get some sleep.”

And then Jihyo rings off before Jeongyeon can get another argumentative word in. 

  
  


-

  
  


_“Jeongyeon to register one, Jeongyeon to register one, please. Thank you.”_

Jeongyeon lifts her head, pushing the cart towards the front of the store. They aren’t packed to the brim with customers and it’s only 1 o’clock, so it could only mean one thing.

“They need the new delivery early, and our driver’s not here yet,” Younghyun passes over the docket, hip against the till. “Something about running out of carrots? They have a catering event tomorrow and need to do the prep now.” 

“I guess they couldn’t wait it out for a couple of hours,” Jeongyeon peers at the price and contents of the list so she can identify it in the coolroom. “Who’s it for?”

“Park Communications. Seoyun said to take the company car,” Younghyun looks around in case a customer overhears and drops a set of keys in her palm. “They’re one of the bigger buyers for their work events. We kind of have to do what they say and when, or they’ll drop us, and then we’re screwed.”

“The magazine company?” Jeongyeon sighs as she shoves it in her pocket, Younghyun nodding to confirm. That’s all the way in the centre of Seoul. They're dedicated to stuffing themselves with organic vegetables. “Ring up Yeri to help run the counters while I’m gone if you need, ‘kay? I’ll probably be a while.” 

“Gotcha.”

Jeongyeon knows how to drive, but it’s too inconvenient to own a car when public transport is easier. Getting a license was one of the first things she ticked off her bucket list when she was finally of age. No matter how much she might hate her boss and the menial tasks she gets assigned, she misses that excitement of being able to drive by herself. It’s not a terrible way to end her shift, if only a little tedious involving hauling heavy objects.

Men spurt from the building as she arrives, donned in suits with their fingers glued to the handles of their briefcases. Pulling the latch to the back of the car, Jeongyeon grabs the first selection of leafy greens and almost trips stepping over the curb from how heavy it is. She didn't anticipate it being this bad, the mass making her waddle to the rotating doors. She should’ve grabbed someone to tag along. By the last crate, Jeongyeon is sure her limbs are about to fall off.

"Let me help!"

An elegant woman smiling with her entire face and perfect teeth hurries over. Red heels click against the floor as she scurries forward by the constraints of her ruffled pencil skirt. 

The woman grasps an edge for herself and begins to shuffle backwards in assistance. How she, or any woman for that matter manage such a task in impractical footwear is a mystery. 

"You can't possibly be carrying this by yourself," The lady fusses, and with a glance upwards Jeongyeon reads her nametag; _Jiyeon_. "Usually the deliveries come from the back entry. Did something happen?"

“Oh, no, not at all,” Jeongyeon’s expression turns sheepish. "I'm not normally on duty, but we were told there was some sort of a culinary emergency, so I kind of just… drove here. I wasn’t sure where to drop these off."

"Ah, yes, that’s right! And on such short notice too, you poor thing," Jiyeon laughs. “Sorry about that. We'll just get one of the receptionists to take it to the cafeteria, shall we?”

Jiyeon takes the rest of the crate and hauls it onto the counter, the lady behind the desk nodding primly at Jiyeon’s easy smile escorting it away with superhuman ease. Jeongyeon picks up on the subtle roll of the employee’s eyes at the elevator past the desk, but Jiyeon doesn’t seem to even notice, continuing to ramble on.

“We have a big photoshoot tomorrow, you see, and we have a foreign photographer here all the way from Germany. There's a lot of pressure on the celebratory lunch being a success, as I’m the head manager of the event,” Jiyeon drawls. “You’re a big help for this! I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” Jeongyeon lies, her smile reminiscent of plastic. She represents her workplace, and she needs to save face as much as possible if Younghyun is right. “We’re more than happy to be of assistance.”

“Lovely,” Jiyeon’s beaming, and Jeongyeon feels a little dazed the longer she stares at it. “It’s Jeongyeon, right?”

Jeongyeon’s act falters. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, it’s written on your little tag here. Pretty name,” Jiyeon reaches forward in the space between them to tilt the badge up, brushing against Jeongyeon’s sternum with a feather touch. Was she referring to Jeongyeon spotting her own? Jeongyeon almost misses Jiyeon’s flicker over her shoulder mid-action, distracted by something ahead. “I’ll see to the crates returning tomorrow.”

Jeongyeon observes as she saunters away, passing by another woman, lips parting as she takes in exactly who it is. The proud ponytail held high at the back of her head, the gaudy clothing -- it’s Jihyo, staunch and glowering as Jiyeon stalks out, a clipboard cradled in her hands and a secretary at her side. 

Jeongyeon doesn’t stay to find out what the unresolved issue is between them. She bolts quickly as possible back to the car before something else ridiculous happens, like Jihyo approaching her too, a kidnapping for another lunch break. It’s bad enough she has to attend this frivolous party out of courtesy, and there’s no escaping a determined Jihyo. 

That sample from work -- it’s not something an intern could snag for their own, thinking realistically. Jihyo must work for the fashion magazine on the top floor, one of the higher-ups. That ensemble she’d worn was _way_ too chic for just business, and - Oh. She’s caught herself thinking too deeply about Jihyo’s life again. 

Willing the curiosity away, Jeongyeon shakes her head as she turns on the ignition and drives back to clock herself out.

  
  


-

Jeongyeon’s five dresses in and ready to jump out of the apartment window. 

“Does this look good?” Nayeon’s swivelling in the mirror against her door. She’s making Jeongyeon help choose the dress for the occasion. “My ass looks big, right?”

“It’s huge,” Jeongyeon pretends to inspect it. “So large that I’m not sure how you manage to walk.”

“Then it stays,” Nayeon pats down her thighs, satisfied. “Where’s yours?”

“Attached to my legs.”

“The dress, you idiot,” Nayeon flings a spare invisible bra strap in her direction. “What did you choose? You need to hurry up so we can do your makeup before Jihyo gets here.”

Jeongyeon’s heart rate won’t let up. Even the huge number of faux-satin minis Nayeon was forcing her to sit through doesn’t distract Jeongyeon from her leg jiggling against the floorboards.

“Just the black one. Long sleeves.”

“Ooh, the one that has some sparkle to it,” Nayeon almost squeals, which means she’s done well in her choice. “Gimme. I wanna do your winged liner next, ‘kay?”

Jeongyeon doesn’t mind being coddled like a toddler if it makes Nayeon happy. Jeongyeon's annoyed enough that she got conned into this event, and she doesn’t need anything else making it worse. Nayeon hasn’t mentioned Jihyo in a taunting manner for the entire afternoon, too distracted by looking perfect for Sana that she’s somehow forgotten all about her original plotting. _Good_. 

That’s until Nayeon notices the shiny bag’s strap perched on Jeongyeon’s shoulder as she exits the bedroom.

“Oh my God,” Nayeon’s beady eyes settle on the item, arms reaching forward to claw at it. “Change of heart?”

Jeongyeon bristles past. “It’s called being polite.”

“Forgive me. For a second there I thought you might’ve finally recovered from that episode of modesty and decided to embrace the experience. I now understand that was a ridiculous assumption.”

“I still don’t need her help,” Jeongyeon clarifies, then firmly adds, “ _Or_ her display of wealth.”

“So you're wearing it in protest and not just because it’s Balenciaga?”

Jeongyeon does a small reel back to where Nayeon’s perched with a know-it-all expression on her face. “Can I not do both?” 

“If you don’t like it, I’ll wear it,” Nayeon’s caught up behind her, trying to grab it off her shoulder as Jeongyeon dodges. “I deserve it!”

Jeongyeon sloughs it out of her reach immediately. “No. It’s mine.” 

“So you do admit that you like it,” Nayeon smirks. “It’s about time you built a bridge. You’ll find this therapeutic.”

“I never said I didn’t.” 

It’s the truth -- in the mirror, there was an extra _something_ added to her reflection. There’s a special factor to couture items that can silk-purse even the simplest of outfits. It's giving her a vague show of confidence. She knows she looks good, which is weird, because most of the time Jeongyeon thinks she looks just acceptable. 

It also helps lessen the guilt now she knows it wasn’t an item Jihyo explicitly bought, but she’s not going to explain that humiliating misunderstanding to Nayeon right now. 

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Nayeon claps her hands together. “It was nice of her to do this. She really likes to make Sana happy, they’ve been friends since they were kids.” 

“You just want to see the chandelier, don’t you?”

“It’s a material world,” Nayeon shrugs, reading a notification on her phone that comes through. “Go put your big-girl shoes on, she’ll be here in fifteen.”

Jeongyeon is a big girl, after all. She can deal with Jihyo herself.

They make it to the edge of the road when Nayeon manages to fall over and scuff her knee, right in front of Jihyo’s silver-sheen Maserati. She begins to wail that she can’t possibly share the back with an injured leg and forces Jeongyeon out by shutting the door. Jeongyeon knows this is a con to get her to sit in the front seat, but speaks nothing of it and complies without complaint. Nayeon won’t win the game, not tonight. 

Jeongyeon appears the epitome of unbothered as she settles herself in and fastens her seatbelt. Jihyo peers with caution at her movement in the rear-view, says nothing of the handbag, a brief greeting. The faint smell of perfume lingers in the car, and it’s starting to give Jeongyeon a headache as they take off. 

Jihyo’s hair's styled with a glistening barrette at the back, in a half-updo, something she could achieve a millisecond after showering because she’s Jihyo. This might not even be her party attire, Jeongyeon bitterly guesses, this green silk suit that climbs her shoulders effortlessly. 

“‘Hope you like salted caramel,” Jihyo makes light conversation among Nayeon’s babbling. In the corner of Jeongyeon’s eye, she counts three rings on Jihyo’s fingers, knuckles flexing as she shifts against the gears. “I made dessert.” 

Nayeon cheers like a child and Jeongyeon looks out of the window, goosebumps raised on her forearms the whole ride uptown.

  
  


-

  
  


What Jeongyeon expects to be a full-blown rager is a respectable gathering. 

It’s mostly a gaggle of Sana’s girls from the cute-themed cafe and some extras, no-one slightly recognisable to the naked eye. Through hushed whispers on a velvet couch that doesn’t sit appropriately on the rooftop of an apartment building, Jeongyeon discovers this is actually a celebration of Sana's promotion to Head Girl - whatever that means. She doesn’t openly announce it until Jihyo hands over a bottle of biodegradable confetti to pop open with the chance of spreading everywhere.

“Stop moping,” Nayeon smacks at the cup in Jeongyeon’s hand, and Jeongyeon gapes as some of the punch sloshes over. It’s lucky she’s standing at the back of the bar area, because Nayeon is lairily drunk already, which means more acts of her casual violence. “You’re being such a… wallflower,” She stares for some weighted moments at the basin Jeongyeon leans against. “...Sinkflower.”

“You can’t just choose to terrorise Sana instead?”

“Tried,” Nayeon’s lower lip juts out. “She’s barely paying attention to me.”

“She’s having fun with her friends. It’s really not that devastating.”

“I’m joking! Mostly.” 

“You could go and make a scene about it,” Jeongyeon says. “That’s a talent of yours.”

Nayeon sends a blow to Jeongyeon’s arm, and she’s sure it’ll bruise after the air settles on the sting. She deserves it, knows this, yet can’t fight the smirk surfacing when Nayeon uncrosses her arms. 

“Jihyo asked me if you’d be okay to help prep the pudding,” Nayeon bites into a cherry from the toothpick in her glass. “Everyone’s kind of wasted and probably too full to eat but it was so cool of her to make them, right? Plus, you’re not really doing anything, so, I said you’d be happy to. How nice.”

“News to me,” Jeongyeon furrows her brows. Nayeon giggles uncontrollably, keeling over thinking she’s done a number on her. Jeongyeon won’t let it get to her, and puffs out her chest. She can surely manage sticking some spoons in some plastic cups. “Fine, whatever. Downstairs?”

“Well, yeah. That’s where the kitchen is. In the massive extended apartment that’s bigger than ours.”

“Well done, Nayeon. You’ve figured out it’s bigger than a shoebox,” Jeongyeon pats her on the back, sensing just how far gone she is by the way she sways. “Go sit with the girls, I’ll be back.”

  
  


-

  
  


Jihyo is a little taller in stilettos than in flats than Jeongyeon remembers, and it almost makes them square. 

Maybe it’s just the way she stares at her entry, head tilted, no words passing through and the ghost of a smile on her lips that unnerves Jeongyeon to the core of her being.

“Hi,” Jeongyeon finally speaks. She feels lost, holding the strand of her bag, seeing there’s a tray lined up with everything in order and organised. “You needed help?”

“It’s already done,” Jihyo says, now by the lounging area surrounded by windows. There’s no television, just a large piece of artwork in the centre of the wall. Jihyo is beautiful enough that she could be a part of it. “You owe me a drink, remember?”

“You lied to Nayeon?” Jeongyeon tuts. “Nayeon hates liars. You’ve been warned.”

“Only if she finds out,” Jihyo’s already pouring Jeongyeon a glass. “Come sit. Is white okay?”

“White’s fine.”

“You have this look on your face,” Jihyo’s smiling as her sleeve shifts, seconds pass where silence envelops the room. It’s almost like it’s soundproof, no trace of the music or noise from outside. “Like you want to say something.”

“I do.”

Jihyo gasps as if she’s scandalised. “Should I brace myself?”

Jeongyeon tries to ignore the jab and holds her breath. Screw it. She’s just the right amount of tipsy for this conversation. “You know she’s been trying to set us up together, right?”

Jihyo waits a beat before bursting into wild laughter.

“I was wondering when that would come up,” Jihyo wipes at small tears that form under her eyes, Jeongyeon watching on, bewildered. It was admittedly naive to believe Jihyo didn’t have an inkling. “You go stiff as cardboard any time Nayeon makes a passing comment.”

“It’s not like _you’ve_ made any attempts to bring it up.”

“It’s fun for me,” Jihyo grins, and Jeongyeon’s stomach does a flip. “The pretending like I have no idea what’s going on. Sana’s subtle as a brick.”

“Nayeon’s worse,” Jeongyeon groans. “She’s genuinely the most insufferable person on the planet when it comes to things like this.”

“She’s done this before, I take it?”

“On multiple occasions,” Jeongyeon sighs. “All attempts have been catastrophic disasters. Like, massive fuck-ups.”

“And me?”

Jihyo’s gaze is fixed so steadily on Jeongyeon’s face. Jeongyeon takes in her dark brown eyes, glowing skin, thick, abundant hair that anyone would want to push their fingertips through. She wonders at what age Jihyo was when she discovered how beautiful she is, the power she wields over women and men alike.

“Somewhere in the middle,” Jeongyeon answers.

“Sana keeps telling me I should settle down,” Jihyo says. “Find someone nice. Stop being a communist when it comes to relationships and such.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “I truly doubt you believe in state ownership.”

“To try monogamy,” Jihyo clarifies strongly. “Casual is better for me. For the sake of my marriage, at least.”

“Wait,” The insides of Jeongyeon’s stomach curl inward with anxiety. “You’re...” 

“To my work, Jeongyeon. Your expression just now,” Jihyo laughs, sinking deeper into the reclining seat. “I think I was right.”

“About what?”

“Your style,” Jihyo stretches to caress the front of the leather bag at her hip. Jeongyeon hadn’t realised how close they’re sitting. “This dress isn’t Nayeon’s, right?”

“It’s mine.”

“I like it. Very you.”

“You don’t know me,” Jeongyeon murmurs, echoing the conversation at the bar. It’s not a biting remark, just fact.

“But I’d like to,” Jihyo says. “I meant that.”

The air Jeongyeon inhales feels hot, not anything like the summer heat where you want ice-cream and to laze around at the beach. It’s a different kind, like warm, lugging water suffocating a pair of drowning lungs. 

“Why did you give this to me?” 

“I explained already, didn’t I?”

“God,” Jeongyeon sighs, over it. “Just say it. Please.”

Jihyo mulls thoughtfully, and it’s painful, the way Jeongyeon has to wait for the response when she’s finally figured it out. “You really want to know?”

 _No_. “Yes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever verbally admitted it, but,” Jihyo sets her drink down on the glass finish of the table, turning completely side-on so they face each other fully. “I think I might just enjoy spending my money on pretty girls.”

Jeongyeon clears her throat, in hopes of it dissipating the violent reaction screaming within the confines of her body. “So you did buy it, then.”

“It’s still from the fashion cupboard, promise! I just tend to add the amount in difference to the company account. Feels like stealing, otherwise.”

“You work at Park Communications,” Jeongyeon’s voice shakes coming out. She hates it. “Stellar magazine, right?”

“You did your research,” Jihyo looks satisfied. “Impressive.”

“I just saw you in the building. Two plus two together,” Jeongyeon mutters. “What happened to Marketing?”

“That’s only one aspect of the job,” Jihyo says. “The rest is a little more complicated than that.”

Jeongyeon brushes it off. It’s not her business, she reminds herself. Why should she care? “I was just delivering something, I don’t know. Whatever.”

“Ah, I thought that was you! You ran away before I could say hi,” Jeongyeon has a flash of embarrassment at the thought of Jihyo watching her jog awkwardly out of the skyscraper. “I didn’t get a chance to say it the last time we met up, but, I _love_ the green shirt.”

“Jihyo,” Jeongyeon swallows. “Why me?”

“I told you already,” Jihyo smiles, like everything stated is a matter of everyday conversation. “I think you’re stunning.”

Jeongyeon gapes at Jihyo in disbelief, who stares unwaveringly back without shame. She doesn’t miss a single bat of an eyelash, not a hair out of place at the admission. Is it easy to be so bold when you’re this untouchable?

Jihyo, who might as well live on another planet from Jeongyeon, thinks she’s pretty. _Pretty._ Pretty enough to spend two million won on, that is.

“It’s my turn for a question,” Jihyo hums. “Are you repulsed by me, or something?”

“What?” Jeongyeon’s forced out from her stormcloud of thoughts. “Why would you even ask that?”

“You jolt when I touch you,” Jihyo taps a finger against her calf muscle, humorously. “Like this. See?”

“It’s not that,” Jeongyeon tries for a satirical smile, but it comes off as strained, and she realises she does indeed flinch. _Fuck_. “It’s not.”

“It’s still something, then.”

Jeongyeon thinks again of that night they all went out as a quartet, when Jihyo’s hand experimentally touched her thigh, the way Jihyo watched her dance from the bar and had her by on the hips on the dancefloor. She expected to be over that by now, put that flame once ignited in the pit of her stomach behind her. 

Jihyo’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Jeongyeon knows this is a tremendously bad idea. In fact, on the scale of Nayeon level fuck-ups, this would probably reach her personal best.

“So how about that pudding,” Jeongyeon urges, shoving off the throw she’d absently slouched on her lap. She stops herself from fleeing at the sound of Jihyo’s voice when it calls her name, sinful and commanding all at once. Her pulse stutters out of time.

“Jeongyeon.”

Jihyo puts one hand on the back of the couch, one on the armrest beside Jeongyeon’s legs. Jihyo leans down, and Jeongyeon softly gasps.

It’s difficult to feign indifference when the weight of someone’s breath is suddenly on your mouth.

“Hey,” Jeongyeon says, softly, a warning without thought. 

Jeongyeon wants this. She doesn’t _want_ to want this, but her body fully betrays her, going limp against Jihyo’s chest, coaxing her into the plush seating.

“Hey,” Jihyo whispers back, and then she latches onto her lips.

Before she even has time to comprehend what’s happening, Jihyo opens up and Jeongyeon’s neck sinks further into the cushions. She tries to keep up with Jihyo’s perfunctory pace as she cautiously kisses her back, unsure of where to even place her hands while Jihyo skims her collarbone. Her mind reels, the dam of self-preservation she’s built up in the past few weeks thawing out and rolling around freely in Jihyo’s mouth.

Jeongyeon melts fully as she sighs into bruised lips, finally giving in as she meets her halfway.

Jihyo tastes as sweet as she looks, hot, wanting and willing, caging Jeongyeon in with her thick thighs. It’s overwhelming, the close proximity compared to the cautiously distanced flirting from before. Even the simplest action of Jihyo’s fingers grazing the line of her jaw makes Jeongyeon whimper out a small noise of pleasure. Jihyo grins hungrily against her, dragging her teeth against Jeongyeon’s bottom lip, greedy to hear the sound again.

They kiss for a while. Jihyo’s pants strain at the knees, slowly edging towards the most erogenous zone of Jeongyeon’s inner thigh with every gasp for air. She could slide herself underneath the dress so easily, but anyone could barge in on them at any second, and --

“Jeongyeon, Jihyo! We’re playing King’s cup. Get your asses up here, right now!”

They both freeze in alarm. Jeongyeon unravels herself immediately in a panic, Jihyo allowing her to escape the embrace at the echo of Nayeon’s booming voice. It comes from the doorframe, a fair walk away, not enough to see from where they’re hidden behind a half-wall. Still heaving as she moves back to the bench, Jeongyeon dares to peek at Jihyo, now positioned comfortably and barely dishevelled from the affair. 

Jihyo maintains the eye contact, smugly wiping a single bead of spit on the side of her mouth to her tongue. _This is what you could have_ , the action says, and Jeongyeon wants to grind her teeth to chalk.

“Hey guys,” Nayeon stumbles over, brazenly dipping into a cup without a single regard to hygiene. “Damn, this is _good_. Jihyo, what’s in it?”

“Sugar,” Jihyo lists, attention still trained on Jeongyeon. “Cream.”

Nayeon hums at the consistency, evaluating Jeongyeon’s awkward distance and poorly concealed effort to catch up to her diaphragm. “You okay? You look kind of pale. Maybe you should sit this round out because someone just poured, like, a whole pint of beer in there. It’s nasty.”

“I’m fine,” Jeongyeon grunts, tugging on Nayeon’s arm to the exit. “Let’s play.”

“Jeongyeon, don’t you have to leave soon?” Jihyo’s tone is cloying, and Jeongyeon stops in her tracks. Nayeon whips her head around. “You should at least take some with you since you helped with everything and all.”

“Huh?” Nayeon laughs, blissfully unaware of Jeongyeon’s silent signal with her eyes to shut up. “Jeongyeon doesn’t have to work tomorrow.”

“My mistake,” Jihyo says, and Jeongyeon’s shoulders drop at the underlying venom. “You can both go ahead if you like. I’ll clean up.” 

Jeongyeon transports Nayeon onto the rooftop again by some miracle, guiding her up the stairs with the soothing tone you’d use on a five-year old pulling a strop in the supermarket. She tries to condense the turmoil currently exploding in her stomach with more punch once she’s back at the mini-bar.

Jeongyeon nervously laughs throughout the game, especially when Sana’s forced to take a gulp of the concoction and shudders in disgust. Jeongyeon wonders if Nayeon’s seeing right through her. She’s hard to figure out, sometimes, when she’s determined to be. 

Jihyo comes out eventually, the girls swarm her for the food, and she stays. They both avoid each other in conversation like opposing magnets when another game starts, one with less mixing of poison involved. Jeongyeon doesn’t understand why they have to try so hard to act like they’re eighteen again.

Sana hiccups. “Never have I ever-” She snickers to Nayeon, who seems to be reading her mind, egging her on and pressing at her for the joke. “- Hooked up with anyone in this circle!”

Sana and Nayeon are the only ones to drink while everyone hoots and bellows for the two. Jeongyeon daren’t move. Jihyo’s fingers close further around her glass and stay there until the next round.

“You’ve smudged your lipstick,” Nayeon dabs at a lone spot on Jeongyeon’s cheek, later, as the light blares too brightly in the cab. 

(Jihyo offers to pay, but Jeongyeon tells her coldly that she’s already ordered within the app.)

Nayeon snorts one last time before collapsing her head onto Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Goodnight.”

Jeongyeon blushes furiously the moment the lights turn off as they speed away, impatient for a shower where she can scrub any remaining imprints of Jihyo off her skin and watch as the suds circle the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops. i'm having a great time writing this if you can't tell


	3. so many ways to sway my emotions

Jeongyeon takes up a lot of shifts during the next week. Summer’s weather is now in full swing and she thinks she’s stumbled into the middle of a relentless heatwave whenever she goes outside. It’s worse when she has Nayeon to babysit on her day off, receiving a message from the old lady that their place would be checked out this afternoon.

“Apartment inspections are the worst,” Nayeon complains as she throws the scouring sponge in her basket. “Just _trust_ us.”

“It’s your turn to clean the toilet this week.”

Nayeon wrinkles her nose. “Yeah. I got it, for the third time now.”

“Just reminding you,” Jeongyeon choruses in a singsong, and swivels down the next aisle. “You should probably start preparing freezable meals for when she finds out the hole in the wall from the doorknob exists."

“She loves feeding them to the tiny dog she owns, it’s so weird,” Nayeon huffs. “Why can’t _we_ get a dog?”

“Life’s unfair,” Jeongyeon says. “You’re free once we find the best bleach brand. The cheap one you bought last time was terrible.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know? I say this affectionately.”

Jeongyeon grins. “I’d never doubt otherwise.”

“Speaking of the apartment,” Nayeon says, now an ominous edge to her voice. It makes Jeongyeon’s head pop up from where she’s been staring at the floor. “I got an extra top-up from my parents a little while ago. Apparently they feel bad because they miss me and I haven’t come around for a while. They can’t smother us both with homemade food.”

“You should hop to that,” Jeongyeon frowns. “They probably can’t sleep because they worry about you. Also because I want a taste of your Mom’s cooking again. Mostly that, to be honest.”

“Beside the point,” Nayeon grunts. “As I was saying… Because I’m a little more cashed up than usual, and I don’t have much to spend on as of lately, I was wondering if you’d maybe let me-”

“No.”

“Maybe I can-”

“No.”

Nayeon stomps down a foot, and she looks so silly in her white sheep slippers. “You won’t even let me finish!”

“Nayeon, I’ve got it covered,” Jeongyeon rolls her eyes. She hates when Nayeon is like this, overly-fussy and presumptuous over her well-being. “Okay? I’ve been picking up extra shifts.”

“It was just an idea!”

“Which are always scary, coming from you,” Jeongyeon scuffles forward, body drooping as they wait in line to check out of the mart. “I’m good, but thanks. Buy the Sea Monkeys farm you’ve wanted instead.”

“You’re such a pain,” Nayeon’s pouting. “It’s my name on the lease, it’s my right.”

“You’re really going to act like you know anything about tenancy rights?”

“Precisely why you live with me,” Nayeon adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “But I just don’t think you should have the option to work more than you already do. You’re on holidays, for God’s sake. This is the last couple of months you have before you sell whatever remains of your soul!”

“My soul is perfectly intact,” Jeongyeon defends. She could also argue that she needs it for the job she’s lining up for when she graduates. It’s a moot point when Nayeon will just mimic it back to her in a puerile manner sounding nothing close to accurate. “This is merely an exercise of free will.” 

“That little elf you do night shifts with is right," Nayeon shakes her head. "You’re just a filthy workaholic.”

“I am not," Jeongyeon says, wondering whether it was mean of her to not jump to Chaeyoung's defence. "I have limits."

"Nope," Nayeon lets out a world-weary sigh, crossing her arms and allowing the plastic basket to crash against her stomach before setting it onto the counter. “I’m losing faith you’ll ever surrender to your autopilot mode. Like, ever.”

“What the hell is ‘Autopilot mode’?”

The cashier in front presses a button on the register, impassive to the quarrel on display. “Cash or credit?

“Picture tapping a car into cruise control,” Nayeon lowers her card, chiming in approval. “You maintain one given speed and don’t have to worry going over _or_ keeping your foot on the accelerator. You can relax, just a little.”

“What a complicated analogy,” Jeongyeon furrows her brows. “I do relax, by the way.”

“As if.”

“What about the arcade meetup?”

“It’s organised by your workplace friends. Doesn’t count.”

“That’s just you being picky,” Jeongyeon chastises. “We watched something last night, right? Usually I just go to bed.”

“You also crashed in the middle of it after a questionable eleven-hour shift,” Nayeon nods and smiles at the cashier as she politely ushers them away, then settles on her disapproving frown for Jeongyeon once they’re out of the store. “You think that’s normal? I have news for you, Bucko.”

“We were short-staffed,” Jeongyeon feebly protests. “Dowoon’s contracted gastroenteritis.” 

“I don’t give a fuck who had violent diarrhoea,” Nayeon makes a tight fist, then relaxes it. “I just want you to unclench! Ever wonder how diamonds are made, Jeongyeon? I’d tell you, but you probably already know.” 

“Keep it down!” Jeongyeon hisses. Nayeon’s laughter is infectious as it is infuriating, unable to keep the smile off Jeongyeon’s face despite herself. “Is this just an extension of your protest for the inspection?”

“Yep,” Nayeon thrusts the bag of cleaning tools in her direction, Jeongyeon immediately taking the responsibility with a roll of her eyes. “I’m gonna go look around the stalls set up out here. Want anything?"

“Sure, but I’m gonna go find a decent toilet brush in the meantime because you mangled the last one. Get me what you end up choosing, I don’t care.”

“Fine,” Nayeon calls, “And it just snapped out of nowhere, okay?!”

Jeongyeon casually flips the bird over her shoulder, back towards Nayeon as she begins to walk away and adjusts her sunglasses on her nose.

  
  


-

  
  


As a sign of karma, Jeongyeon can’t find Nayeon twenty minutes later with many phone calls cutting through to a chirpy voicemail with no answer. Her stomach is practically eating itself. She’s grabbing a tub of instant ramyun to prepare from the boiling water tap at the back of the store as her phone begins to ring.

“Nayeon, finally,” Jeongyeon sighs in exasperation. “Did you go home without me, or what? I’m at the CU.”

“Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Ms Yoo Jeongyeon?”

It’s another woman. Her tone is polished and brusque like she’s undertaken thirty calls before this one. Jeongyeon listens closely to the static before it becomes unacceptable -- is it the electricity company? Usually, they call in the morning if they have an issue. If she confirms her identity immediately, it’s a barrage of passive-aggressive questions. 

Phoning on a Sunday is a little low, even for these cockroaches. Jeongyeon clears her throat to crisp up her voice. “Who’s speaking?” 

“My name’s Ms Myoui Mina, from Park Communications. I’m calling on behalf of Ms Park.” 

“Park?” Jeongyeon gawks. One of the familial connections? A chill sends down her spine. If this has anything to do with an error regarding yesterday’s order, Jeongyeon is well and truly screwed. “This is my personal number, but I can connect you to the Fresh Food Mart landline? They’re who to call regarding business matters.”

“I was strictly instructed to call this number. This _is_ Yoo Jeongyeon, correct?” 

“Uh, yeah. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ms Park would like to arrange a meeting with you. Are you available tomorrow?”

“Why?” Jeongyeon’s arm hair stands at an end, putting on her best customer service babble she can muster. “Is anything wrong? I can assure you we’ll provide credit in the next transaction. There was a discrepancy between delivery drivers, I promise you it won’t happen again.”

“This has nothing to do with a delivery,” Mina sounds irritated. Jeongyeon would probably be too if she had to work on a late Sunday afternoon, but it’s still not appreciated. “Ms Park states she has some urgent business she’d like to pick back up as soon as possible. If that would be okay with you.”

Jeongyeon blinks. “Are you _sure_ this is the right number?”

“I’m calling on behalf of Park Jihyo? Editor of Stellar Magazine?”

Jeongyeon almost drops the foam bowl of ramyun and startles the young couple trudging by. They stare daggered looks in her direction, in her stupid slippers cradling a shiny new toilet brush.

Her mind struggles to wrap around Jihyo as the Editor in Chief of one of the biggest magazines in the country. It must mean her family owns the whole damn building, and Jeongyeon pranced in there delivering crates of measly vegetables.

“Is one o’clock suitable?”

“It’s not,” Jeongyeon thinks aloud. The toilet brush and holder almost slip from Jeongyeon’s grasp, fumbling to contain them against her chest. “I’ll - I’ll be working, so no.”

There’s a muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Is seven-thirty better?” 

“What’s this meeting about? Define ‘urgent’. Is she there with you?” Jeongyeon fires questions mercilessly, a little too loud for the dairy section at a convenience store. The audacity of Jihyo to speak through a secretary is ridiculous. She’s had no difficulty in her past instances of brazen contact. “Can you put her on the phone?”

“Do you have anything to write on? I’ll give you the coordinates.”

“Fine. Hang on,” Against better judgement, Jeongyeon shamefully lowers the volume of her phone. The speaker button lights up and she opens her notes app. “Okay.” 

Mina emotionlessly lists Jeongyeon an address, and Jeongyeon puts the phone back to the shell of her ear. 

“Please, just, hold on a second,” Jeongyeon rests a hand on the shelf, the store-owner visibly confused from where he’s restocking confectionery. “Could you-”

“She’ll see you at seven-thirty. Have a pleasant evening,” Mina concludes, and there’s a click as the line severs dead.

Jeongyeon decides before bed that she’s not answering to Jihyo’s demands, especially not after what happened on Friday evening.

The next day, she wakes up contemplating walking right in there instead. She’ll throw the bag on the table and exit without a word. Screw politeness -- it’d be to show she still has her pride.

Jihyo must have a reason to call this in, though. Jeongyeon wonders whether she’ll receive an apology, tell Jeongyeon she was drunk and it was an honest mistake. Maybe she’ll apologise for the lascivious manner of climbing onto Jeongyeon’s lap when she was least expecting it. _No_. Jihyo was in no way remorseful for initiating the kiss, and she’s made that crystal clear. 

With a harmless Naver image search of her full name, Jeongyeon is flooded with numerous pictures of Jihyo in public outings. Most of them are favourable, in-office at her desk and others of her appearing lithe at public fashion events. She’s always smiling and tilting her head towards the camera, but she’s even better looking in person, be damned.

There’s one, in particular, catching Jeongyeon’s eye. It's Jihyo, oddly on the sidelines and next to what seems to be an older lady cutting a red ribbon out the front of a building. She’s not smiling in this one. Jeongyeon gets a tiny sadistic kick in Jihyo dressed to the nines and miserable, but then her conscience kicks in and she exits the page guiltily.

Jeongyeon eyes the clock at five pm. Nayeon’s sleeping at Sana’s tonight, so if she slips out, it’s unassuming and non-suspicious. There’s been no messages from Jihyo, no further elaboration on the subject. It’s killing her. Is it over the other night, or is this indeed a horrific mishap regarding purple turnips poisoning the German photographer? Will she get paperwork slapped across her face? A lawsuit? Attending would just be to satisfy her curiosity. 

She’s got another dress in the back of her wardrobe, somewhere, surely.

  
  


-

  
  


By seven, Jeongyeon is slowly walking up the street she was given directions to and staring in the windows of the rich storefronts she passes by. She stops at the building number, pauses, then knocks on the nondescript door. There’s a brass plaque next to it, but the door opens before she gets the chance to scrutinise it. She expects the ever-serious form of Myoui Mina to appear before her, but it’s just Jihyo, standing there in shirtsleeves and a pair of neutral trousers. 

“Jeongyeon,” Jihyo pleasantly says, stepping aside to let her in as if the occurrence from the other night never happened. “Welcome!”

Jeongyeon is ready to stride past her, but Jihyo takes her arm, gliding her fingers into the hardness of her elbow and gracefully pulls her in. _So this isn’t an apology_ , Jeongyeon thinks, as she tilts her head so Jihyo’s kiss of greeting misses the periphery of her cheekbone. 

Her lips manage somehow, and then she’s stepping away as Jeongyeon lightly touches the spot where Jihyo’s lips had been in surprise. Jihyo isn’t smirking at the stupid action like Jeongyeon dreads when she dares to check, instead giving her this long, considered expression she can’t decipher. It makes her blood run hot, and she has to look away before it burns.

A skylight illuminates the sunset onto the floor from the ceiling, expanding over the sterile walls. There’s blank mannequins with fabric strewn over the shoulders, pins sticking into what’s supposed to be the nape of the neck. Jihyo studied fashion once, obviously. Family can only get you half of the way.

“This is neat,” Jeongyeon says, conversationally reaching out to touch the suede finish before they reach a flight of stairs. If Jihyo can continue on, so can she. “Do you still design?”

“Rarely, nowadays,” Jihyo says from behind. 

“Did you ever get on the runway?”

“Once upon a time. Shall we?”

Jeongyeon’s panting by the time they reach the top storey, leading the way on her own. It’s from a phoney sense of self-assurance, but it’s enough to get her to sink into the seat without having to listen to Jihyo politely encouraging her to make herself at home. 

Jihyo eases into the sofa chair beside her desk, where there’s a laptop perched with a screensaver of what looks to be a white woman kissing her on the cheek. Jeongyeon’s mouth falls open as her eyes adjust to the photograph. Is that _Donatella?_

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Jihyo steeples her fingers together. “But it’s better to get it out of the way now, I’m running low on time.”

“If this is regarding the other night, I've already forgotten about it,” Jeongyeon makes sure her voice trails icicles on the ceiling. “So you don’t need to worry. It’s chill.”

“Wow,” Jihyo says with a silent laugh, hand to the fake wound on her chest. She doesn’t seem truly affected, and it blows Jeongyeon’s buildup of confidence out of the water. “Was I _that_ awful?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” Jeongyeon hastily says. “You were fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?”

“Good, great, whatever,” Jeongyeon’s face heats up. “I just - it was a spur of the moment thing, for me. So you can forget, too, if you want. As you said, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.” 

“That’s the plan,” Jihyo says, and the expectant gaze from before returns as she slowly crosses her legs. “But I didn’t call you all the way here over _that_ if it’s what you’re insinuating.”

Jeongyeon’s mouth makes a small ‘O’ shape and Jihyo quietly laughs. She reaches from behind her, pouring liquid from a pot resting on a tray. “Tea?”

Jeongyeon nods, Jihyo tenderly passing the saucer over with no tremor to her hold. Jeongyeon sighs, opting for the blunt route. 

“Be honest. Am I fired?”

“What? No. Why would you assume such a thing?” 

“Your secretary insisted this wasn’t over the delivery, but I had to be sure. I desperately need my job, so, please reconsider if it is.” 

“It’s neither,” Jihyo tuts. “Actually, the opposite.”

“Oh-kay,” Jeongyeon tries not to react. “This is all so secretive. Are you a real-life Bruce Wayne in heels, or whatever?”

“Not quite, sorry to disappoint. But, drawing back to the subject of employment; I called you here to offer you a job.”

“For you? You’re kidding.”

“You’re educated, well-spoken,” Jihyo crosses her legs, casual as she lists positive attributes similar to running through a to-do list. “You have a knowledge of fashion, or at least seem to enjoy it. I like you. You fit this month’s segment perfectly.”

“But none of those things makes me a columnist,” Jeongyeon frowns. “Mina told me you’re the Editor, thanks for the heads up by the way. I’m not a writer, Jihyo.”

“You would’ve figured it out eventually,” Jihyo says, distracted. “And none of that matters. Tell me, have you ever considered modelling?”

“Huh?”

This is absolutely not how Jeongyeon expected this conversation to turn. 

“You have the proportions,” Jihyo rakes her eyes up and down Jeongyeon’s body, while Jeongyeon’s too awestruck on ‘modelling’ to react. “Height, face. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.”

“Is this a thing you’re supposed to notice as an ordinary citizen?” Jeongyeon’s shock renders to a blink. “I’m not following. Did you just say I could be a _model_?”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been approached for a consultation,” Jihyo confirms. “Nonetheless; this will be a one-off deal with a new monthly piece we’re working on. Interns take to the streets of Seoul once a month to offer a small interview and photoshoot to a person of enough interest. It’s close to a character study, almost. I want you to be the first.”

Jeongyeon raises an eyebrow at her. “Did you not meet me at the apartment, or was it a figment of my imagination?”

“A small detail readers don’t need to know. The shoot’s next week.”

“Slow down a minute. This is my face in a magazine we’re talking about. My _face_. On laminate paper, for God’s sake!”

“Three pages, if we’re being precise,” Jihyo says like it’s a matter of discussing the weather. “To be frank, I feel this would benefit and advance your career greatly.”

“Career?” Jeongyeon bitterly laughs. “I’m barely a third-year student.”

“You want to help people, Jeongyeon,” Jihyo insists, and it seems such an earnest and innate belief that she’s dazzled. “I want to give you an opportunity to spread a positive message in this interview.” Well, she is until Jihyo’s desk phone rings and she slams down the receiver with an unpleasant _‘clack’_. Jeongyeon remembers, now, this is just a thinly-veiled extension of Jihyo’s cold and corporate office. “How exciting!”

“I can assure your readers care more about gem-encrusted moccasin slides than sociology,” Jeongyeon scoffs. “Can I go home now?”

“No, actually. There’s something else,” Jihyo’s fingertip presses against the prism paperweight on her hardwood desk. Jeongyeon is unsure how she manages to pull away without a prick of blood. “Are you seeing anyone currently?”

“What? Like, a relationship?” Jeongyeon fights a stutter at such a bold question. “Are your context clues malfunctioning or what?”

“These are modern times, Jeongyeon,” Jihyo tilts her head. “You can go around kissing however many women you please.”

“I’m single,” Jeongyeon’s cheeks threaten to flare up at the direct acknowledgement of the _incident._ “I don’t understand how this is even slightly relevant or any of your business. Care to explain?”

“Gladly,” Jihyo says briskly. “I’m asking because I’m not sure any existing partners would entertain the idea of you taking the spare time to date me.”

Jeongyeon gapes at her, mouth opening to let out a couple of sad, wheezy gasps, then intensifies when Jihyo doesn’t immediately jump to correct herself.

“Are we on one of those reality shows right now?” Jeongyeon peers into the desk plant, wondering if there’s a camera beneath the leaves. “Am I being pranked?”

“You’re not. I’d like to spend a few months with you on an exclusive basis.”

 _“What?”_ Jeongyeon’s head is pulsing. “You want me to be your - your _girlfriend_?”

“Just publicly,” Jihyo shakes her head. “Sana was right. I need to show at least _some_ conventional settledness for the sake of public appearances."

"Um... I don't recall that being what she said. Like, at all."

"It isn't?" Jihyo blithely replies, uncaring. "Regardless, It's for you to decide.”

Jeongyeon weirdly senses that behind this bravado, Jihyo is perhaps nervous over the response to her crazy idea by the way she’s adjusting the ruby ring on her index finger. It’s an odd reversal of power, considering Jihyo is the overall better positioned of the two. Jihyo is the kind of person everyone normally dreams to be with, yet here she is, nervously tapping at her knees and waiting for Jeongyeon’s verdict on a fake dating scenario. Jeongyeon can’t fathom the sense behind this ordeal.

“Hypothetically, if I was interested in this publicity scam, which I’m not,” Jeongyeon holds her head high. “How would any of it possibly benefit me?”

“You would attend an assortment of exhibitions, shows, dinners. I’d introduce you to influential people. Ever been to a gala? Think of how many old, drunken men you could convince to donate to a cause.”

“Totally,” Jeongyeon scowls. _Fuck Nayeon and her blabbing mouth._ Jeongyeon is _so_ glad she’s suffered over scrubbing a toilet bowl now. “Is there anything Nayeon _doesn’t_ tell you?”

“Not really,” Jihyo's smile is irritating. “I think it’s very sweet you’d wish to create an organisation. I’d love to see it in action someday.”

“I’ll have to graduate, first. Gain field experience until I’m forty. Manifest the funds miraculously out of thin air,” Jeongyeon rolls her eyes. “Etcetera, etcetera. What would _you_ be genuinely getting out of all of this?”

“Personal entertainment?” Jihyo shrugs. “Who knows. It’s not just one pointed benefit. Maybe you could tear me away from traps trying to sell me their indie brands. You don’t understand how tragic it is to hear how a sister’s wife’s cousin’s connection to Jesus Christ inspired yet another floral print to be rolled out in the spring. This happens at every formal event,” Jihyo’s lip quirks upward. “And I mean _every_ one.”

“So? Hire a scary bodyguard like any other normal rich person.”

“I’ve found they don’t prove much for interesting conversation, contrary to you. It’s not unheard of, having elaborate company. What industry do you think I work in?”

“Elaborate company,” Jeongyeon enunciates, the words sullying her tongue. “You don’t mean a _mistress,_ right?”

“I’ll be providing a retainer and clothing allowance for your time,” It’s an effective diversion, but not good enough to stop Jeongyeon from setting the saucer and teacup aside to flee at any moment necessary. “It’s precious and should be compensated as such.”

Jihyo can dress this up as prettily as she wants to, but in Jeongyeon’s mind, the one word rings true in blaring alarm bells impossible to ignore. Jihyo didn't rush to vehemently deny it -- _Mistress_ . Doesn’t it usually mean there’s a little… _debauchery_ involved, here? Rarely are such arrangements made without particular expectations being met, unless Jihyo’s one of those rare people purely seeking gratification in knowing someone’s racked up their credit card bill. 

Jeongyeon’s body warms at the thought of a physical relationship with the woman sitting across from her, eyes flitting down to the split seam of her skirt nestled against her thigh in crossed formation.

 _Enough._ Jeongyeon tears her gaze away. She’s nowhere near a saint in the grander scheme of things, but she’s always had a good and honest upbringing to reflect upon in the presence of temptation. The thought of her grandmother’s horrified face at the implication of this situation is enough for Jeongyeon to wake up and smell the daisies. 

“I’d better go,” Jeongyeon struggles to stand in her heels, begging silently that Jihyo has the courtesy not to comment on the stumble. “An escort agency might be more appropriate. You could find something discreet, with good rates. Someone super nice! Or mean. Not sure what you're going for, here. I guess cost wouldn’t matter to you either, would it?”

“I was thinking ten million won a month,” Jihyo announces before Jeongyeon can fully lift herself from the depths of the leather armchair. “We can negotiate on clothing, as some upcoming events are more important than others. I’ll need you to appear your sharpest.”

“Holy,” Jeongyeon collapses back. “Shit. You _are_ serious.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jihyo asks. “I was serious the moment we stepped into this room.”

The playful inflexion in Jihyo’s statement strikes Jeongyeon’s chest. It’s bold, daring, posing a challenge too enticing and infrequent of nature to not pause and process. Anyone being offered such a large amount of money from a gorgeous woman would react the same, Jeongyeon rationalises with herself. _Right_?

“That’s,” Jeongyeon’s mouth dries. “That’s a lot of money, Jihyo. Way too much.”

“Ah,” Jihyo taps a finger to her temple. “But not for me.”

“Just how rich are you to be throwing money around like this, anyway?”

Jihyo dismisses Jeongyeon’s questioning with an unconcerned flick of her wrist. “This is about a partnership, not the money. How we can help each other.”

Jeongyeon’s mind hurdles through the numbers. One down payment by itself is enough to cover rent for months, sitting prettily in her account specifically to keep track of bills. Electricity, water, internet all covered with plenty left over. It would mean no counting coins to afford groceries, eating something out other than the usual garbage Lotteria cheeseburger because they’re doing a 2 for 1 special. She could even put some of it towards her loans, Christmas presents for her family, a new bed incapable of collapsing or sinking inwards when you roll over to the left side.

The entire quality of Jeongyeon’s life would change, if she just took the chance. 

Jihyo stands, walks to Jeongyeon’s seat to crouch at her feet, her white sleeve brushing against Jeongyeon’s leg. Jeongyeon shies away, not caring even if it’s childish to stare at the painting on the wall.

“That night - was it the defining moment leading up to all of this?” Jeongyeon’s voice thickens. “Did I pass your test? Did I get the gold star?”

“I kissed you because I felt like it,’ Jihyo murmurs, lightly feathering Jeongyeon’s knuckles as if dealing with splintered glass. “You looked like you wanted me to. Didn’t you?”

Jeongyeon looks anywhere but Jihyo’s face. She’s hit the nail on its ugly, reared head. “This isn’t happening. You really think because we kissed _once_ , that I’m some kind of-

“Not at all,” Jihyo rushes out her offence so quickly it mollifies Jeongyeon. Just a little. “Forget it for a moment and listen. Above anything else, I _need_ you in next month’s edition. I’ve been planning to branch Stellar out to connect with the people, personal stories, more than just haute couture articles for a while now. You moved me the night Nayeon told me about your dreams. It was refreshing! I want you to tell my readers the exact same things she told me.”

Jeongyeon’s hands lie still in her lap until Jihyo takes one into her own, smoothing over the skin when it doesn’t immediately pull away. It almost lulls Jeongyeon into a calmer state, by the rhythmic touch and high-end perfume. 

“As for the second proposal,” Jihyo cautiously continues, “I’ll take you to different places, help you meet different people, set up any possible connections to get you where you want to be -- If you can help me in return. Jeongyeon, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb in saying we’re clearly attracted to one another.”

Jeongyeon blinks to numb the stinging statement from resounding in her head and bouncing around her brain. Jeongyeon hates the fluttery presence of flattery in the verbal admission, the proposal itself. Jihyo’s rich, successful and attractive. She could choose anyone else in the country for this, hire any model or actress to take her place. She must have outreach, contacts.

For some inexplicable reason, she’s choosing Jeongyeon over anyone else.

“I’m not fit for dating around my busy schedule as you know, but,” Jihyo’s eyes are glittering. “I think a compromise could be reached, if you wanted one. You deserve much more than just a one night stand.”

Jihyo is so certain and convincing that Jeongyeon imagines it’s all real for a moment. She’s always wondered how it would feel to fly in a private jet, with the problematic economical standpoint of it aside. She’s never even forked out for Economy Premium, only travelling on a tinny plane to Jeju island when she was sixteen to see distant relatives. What’s Paris’ state of climate this time of year? 

“Appropriately, there would be a contract in order if you do decide-”

“A contract?!” Jeongyeon splutters, and the montage shatters. “A fucking _contract?_ Are you-”

Jihyo squeezes her arm, gently. It’s only to get her to shut up, but it makes Jeongyeon shiver because the two of them _do_ share a connection, just as Jihyo said. She’d look ridiculous to outright deny it now. Two people never kiss for no reason at all. 

Whatever they have, it’s charged with something Jeongyeon isn't proud of or brave enough to confront. 

“They would be clear-cut boundaries, laying everything out on the table so we both understand the terms,” Jihyo explains, kindly. “Don’t you think it’s better this way?”

Deep down, Jeongyeon fully understands why she’s here, why she swore against the imperious summons then went back on her decision like the snapping of an elastic band. 

“You’ve lost your mind,” She weakly replies, instead. “None of what you’re saying is making any sense.”

“You can have time to think about it.”

The smooth exterior of the chair sticks to the back of Jeongyeon’s thighs and she hopes it won’t make a noise as she stands. Jihyo is watching her so keenly it’s nearly impossible for her not to look right into her big, brown eyes.

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’d want me to be…” Jeongyeon quietly trails off, refusing to say the word aloud out of self-preservation. “I’m just… me. I’m not anything special, Jihyo. I’m not.”

“I happen to believe otherwise. You won’t bore me, that’s one thing I know for certain,” Jihyo smiles. “Beside the fact you’ll have an interesting summer.”

Jeongyeon snatches her hand away as the panic flares up again. Jihyo is better at coercion when her annoyingly distracting mouth is playing to Jeongyeon’s strengths -- being clamped shut. 

“This was all very entertaining, but will you please move? I’d like to go home now.” 

Jihyo is unperturbed by the outburst, smoothing down her pant leg as she rises to meet Jeongyeon’s wild expression. “I’ll have Mina send you the details for the shoot.”

“Do what you want, but,” Jeongyeon is already halfway to the door, but she whirls around, incredulously laughs. “What makes you think I’m ever going to say yes?”

“You know I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think you’d suit the challenge,” Jihyo blinks as if surprised that Jeongyeon is dumb enough to ask. “And also because you haven’t said no.” 

Jeongyeon nearly breaks a leg hurrying her way down the flight of stairs. The studio is large enough to get lost in, but she finally reaches the front door, having to tug with both hands at the weight. She’s thankful she doesn’t have to mortify herself further and call for Jihyo’s assistance in setting her free from the equally difficult front gate, because if that happened, she’d have to die immediately from shame.

Jeongyeon’s breath steadies as she catches the nearby bus to her suburb, grabbing the handle to hold herself upright and not knock herself against the other passenger she’s sitting next to. She stares out of the windows as she passes the concrete landscape, heading into less luxurious suburbs the further the bus drives out. They’re far more up her alley than Sinsa or Apgujeong. 

She might live an inexpensive lifestyle, but it doesn’t mean she’s flagrantly cheap, which is what Jihyo probably thinks of her for even suggesting such an idea. Does Jeongyeon look like a woman that needs to be patronised? _Of course not,_ she indignantly reminds herself. Jeongyeon was foolish to think for a second that a woman like Jihyo would be interested in her without some form of ulterior motive in the mix. The secretary is going to badger her again, too. She’ll have to figure out a response soon.

Jeongyeon’s head sinks into her hands -- she can’t help but lament. If she’d just replied politely to the text that day with a simple _thank you_ and moved on, maybe none of this mess would have even seen the light of day.

Jeongyeon gets off at her stop in a slightly crumpled dress with sticky gum on the bottom of her heel and closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> @jeonghyonation on twitter


End file.
